The Secret Fire
by SeveranSnape
Summary: What happens when Hermione Granger witnesses a gruesome murder in a metro train? Who was the killer and what are his interests in her? Why was he following and taunting her? Should she fight or hide? Whom should she confide to? Draco was perplexed. Why didn't he just finish her off? What was holding him back? Conscience? Guilt? Or was it something else? ABANDONED.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks everyone for clicking on the story link.**

 **This fiction was actually my first full length story written back in 2010 and '11, when I was in Medical School. I never had the time or courage to publish it online; so I kept it among my books and almost forgot about it when I recently, came across the yellowed pages of my first fiction. I sat, reread it and smiled. Then I decided to share it with my readers.**

 **Everyone please note that this is an AU story set in Switzerland. Draco, Hermione and all the characters that you will be reading are not wizards and witches; they are plain Muggles. Unlike, _The Poisoned Apple_ , there is no connection with reality about anything that I write here. It's a story based on complete imagination. Here I experiment with characters; their boundaries, goodness and dark pasts.**

 **Also, the characters might appear slightly OOC. That's because they were written that way.**

 **I hope everyone will enjoy it.**

 **This chapter is rated: T.**

 **Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental.**

 **Chapter 1: Prologue.**

Draco's phone, in silent mode, kept buzzing. The name on the screen read 'Theo'.

It ended. A short message of 'Eight missed calls' appeared on the screen before it blacked out. The owner of the cell phone was concentrating on the screen of the laptop he was staring unblinkingly at. The picture of a middle aged man was plastered on it.

Someone knocked on the door insistently. Draco ignored it. After ten seconds, the knob turned soundlessly and a tall man in white apron slipped in.

"What's wrong, Draco?" he asked the man sitting behind the spacious desk, "I have been calling you for eternity." He slumped on a seat and picked up the neglected cell phone. "Eight missed calls." He read out with a reproachful look.

The silent man was silent than ever as his gaze intensified.

"Reckon you can hide from me?" he muttered with a very smug look before closing the tab and turning off the laptop.

"Theo, is my proxy ready?" he looked up and asked.

"Tonight?" Theo blinked incredulously.

"Yes." Draco joined his fingers and gave Theo a very calm look. "It can't be delayed anymore. I am sure that you understand the risks."

Theo stared at Draco for fraction of a second before fumbling inside his pocket for his cell phone. "Yeah, right. I am arranging it." he said with a curt nod of understandment.

Draco left his seat and went to the window. His office was vast but the blinds were drawn, obscuring the place into a cave of darkness and light. He parted the gap between two blinds with one slender finger and looked through it. It was already dark outside. The traffic appeared like many stars of a milky way, slowly moving and circling on the crowded streets below.

"It's done." Came Theo's confirmation. Draco stared at the traffic for a fraction of a second before leaving it be.

"Tell him to come here after nine o' clock." Draco said, collecting his cell phone and locking his laptop in a drawer, "And he'll not…"

"Do the operations." Theo finished the rest of the sentence, "I know. Don't nag."

Draco gave Theo a very disdainful look. "Draco Malfoy doesn't nag." He said coolly before throwing his apron over his shoulder and leaving for the door.

"What are you taking? Bus or car?" Theo asked from behind.

"Metro." Draco smirked and closed the door behind him with a snap.

•••••

Hermione Granger adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder and came out from the library building.

She checked her watch. Nine thirty. It was pretty late. The hostel gate closes sharp at ten.

She decided to pick herself a small sandwich or whatever she could get on her way to the metro. There wasn't enough time to have an elaborate supper. While studying in the library, she had forgotten about time; as she always did.

Geneva, Switzerland. The city and its people were new to her. But Hermione Granger, Dr. Hermione Granger, was not the kind who'd sit back in her home while her friends and classmates pursued their careers in higher studies.

She passed by a small but cozy looking café and bought herself a sandwich and a roll. It didn't cost her more than it would in England. She didn't buy coffee, as most would have. She had in her room a large jar of coffee that her mother gave her. There was no point in wasting scholarship money after takeaway coffee.

Hermione started for the metro again. She had noticed how most people in Geneva, unlike Britain, liked to travel by trams and trolleybuses. She, on the other hand, preferred the subway. She liked London Underground and metro in Geneva was less crowded than its British counterpart, a feat that she appreciated immensely. Besides, the nearest metro station was just twenty minutes walking distance from the library she studied in every day. It was both economically and physically convenient for her. She could walk, exercise her body after hours of long reading, keep herself fit and take a look around the new city while walking.

The neon sign of the metro station came into view. Hermione sighed and adjusted the leather strap of her heavy bag before taking the stairs.

Inside, she bought a ticket and walked slowly towards the platform. It was almost empty except for her and a few other passengers. There was still seven minutes before the train she would be taking arrived. Hermione took a seat and eased her shoulder of the sagging weight of the bag. She noticed that her scarf was hanging loose from around her neck. She straightened it and tied knot in the middle. She checked her watch. Three more minutes to go.

When the train arrived, Hermione stood up, heaved her bag on her shoulder and chose the compartment standing just before her. Its door stood open, as if welcoming her on board.

She walked in. Like the platform, she has just left behind, the compartment was also deserted except for her. Hermione chose a corner seat and was about to place her bum on it when another man, with a wild look, almost jumped into the compartment.

The next thing he did was grabbing the edge of the steel doors and trying to close them manually in die hard desperation.

Hermione blinked. What was the man doing? What was wrong?

"Er…Mr…" were the only words that could leave her mouth before another man kicked the wild looking man aside and jumped on board. One look at him and Hermione was under the seat she was planning to seat on, with her heavy bag.

The only door that could take her out was closed now and the train started moving. Under the shelter of rows of seats and behind her bag, Hermione cringed when the man landed on the floor with a loud thud. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that the first man tried to sit up and got kicked straight on his chest.

"I don't think so." The second man hissed. It was a deep voice and full of such malice that her hairs stood on their ends. It sounded even deeper as the words echoed across the empty compartment.

Hermione recoiled under the seat. What was hell was going on? Was it some sort of gang fight or just thugs fighting amongst themselves for bigger share of money?

"Pleeeaassseeee…." The first man pleaded to him like a wounded dog, "…forgive…me…have…mercy…"

"Have mercy?" the second man's voice sounded highly amused, as if it was good joke. "On you?" He took out a revolver and with well practiced hands, started to attach the silencer to it.

Hermione tried to gulp but her throat was too dry. She clamped her mouth to prevent the screaming that was threatening to burst out any moment. In fact, not even her breathing sound should reach the ears of that man.

The second man, still holding the wounded man under his right foot, lowered his body and for the first time, Hermione got a better view of his face.

It was ugly. His hair was a mixture of grays and blacks. The eyebrows were sagging over hollowed eyes which were burning. There was a deep cut on his left cheek. To Hermione, he looked like a perfect right hand man of famous English Pirate, Blackbeard. He loomed over his victim with one foot still on his chest, seemingly determined to crush his breastbone under his weight.

"You know, what," the pirate balanced his loaded revolver on his right thigh and tapped thoughtfully on his chin, "I think I am having a change of mind, now. I'll have mercy on you."

The first man looked relieved. "Merci, merci…" he started but the pirate cut in.

"I have only five minutes to finish you off." He said coldly, checking his watch, "I thought, I'd beat the hell out of you before sending you to a nice trip to After World but now…" he picked his revolver and placed his right index on the trigger, "I think it's better if I give you a quick death." he said and without warning, pushed the nozzle into the first man's half-open mouth.

"Au revoir." He said with a charming smile.

There was a small click and Hermione, instinctively, closed her eyes.

There was no bang of bullet hitting the metal floor of the train but Hermione knew in her heart the man was dead now. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, the man's face came into view, blood slowly drooling from a corner of his mouth, his eyes wide in fear but lifeless.

The pirate man was humming now, wiping the mouth of the silencer in the dead man's clothes as if it was as normal was watering a begonia. He was so calm and relaxed that Hermione suspected he didn't even realize what he has just done: killed a man in a moving metro.

He stood up, kicked neglectfully on the face of the dead man with his heavy boot. He checked his watch again and looked around the compartment.

Hermione hunkered down under the seat and wished desperately that she could vanish. She almost gagged herself to make her as silent as a dead.

Satisfied with his scrutiny, the man whistled lightly and turned fully on her direction. For a fleeting moment, Hermione thought, he had found her hiding under the seat but no. He simply, kicked the dead man and sent him flying under a seat and slumped on another one. Next he shoved his revolver inside his jacket pocket and took out what looked like a brand new copy of the Vogue. He opened and disappeared behind the colourful pages.

There was no sound in the empty compartment as the train shuttled towards its destination. Unable to see what the killer was doing, Hermione strained her ears. Only a faint scratching sound reached her ears.

'What was he doing?' she thought desperately. 'Was he really reading? Or was it a stunt to hide his face? Has he seen her? Was he planning to ambush and kill her too? Was he mad? Why did he kill that man? In a metro nonetheless?' thousands of such questions crowded inside her head.

The killer was whistling as he placed one long leg over the other, looking very comfortable. Hermione didn't move an inch. She just wanted it to be over.

Soon, with great relief, she noticed the train was slowing down. In her fear, she had forgotten about the time. How very strange that when in peril, even a minute seems to drag to ten and while in hurry, it just flashes past carelessly.

Seemingly realizing that the train was about to stop, the killer closed the Vogue and Hermione, having nothing else to do and staring at him, almost choked.

It was a completely different man. The one she had seen killing the man who was now lying under the seats was as ugly as a pig. This one was completely opposite. Not an angel though but quite gentlemanly indeed.

His almost shoulder length silvery blonde hair was glistening as he stowed the magazine inside his black jacket and stood up. His eyes were cold and grey. The features were pointed and he was pretty pale. He was quite tall and slender. There was an aura of great disdain about him as he walked past Hermione, without any sign that he knew about a dead body or any killing at all.

It took Hermione a whole minute to recover from her shock. She heard the inter-compartment door open and close. The killer had decided to leave the compartment but not the train. Why he did so was an enigma to Hermione. He could have done that as soon as he finished the killing and yet he waited, whiled away his time in reading a magazine and removing his disguise before deciding to move on with whatever damned plan he had.

She peeked out from her hideout, taking care not to glance at the dead body. Being a doctor, dead bodies were not new to her. But this was different. A man had been murdered just before her eyes and she couldn't possibly, no matter how much she tried, make herself to look at it.

The train had slowed down to the point of stopping. Hermione made sure that there was no one in the compartment before coming out from under the seats. Slowly she walked on all fours towards the nearest door. She was going to get the hell out this place as soon as the train stopped.

She was almost behind the glass covered door when the metro train stopped finally and all the doors opened automatically. Breathing deeply, Hermione crawled into the platform, with her back towards the door.

She was almost out when something stopped her.

Her scarf. It was holding her back.

Wondering if the ends got caught somewhere, Hermione carefully turned and froze.

The cold grey eyes of the blond man were staring at her behind the revolver muzzle that was pointed directly on her face. She could see the tiny hole in its center, her heart stopping its beating as she waited for a bullet to come out and finish her life story. Flashes of memories played before her eyes. Her parents. Her friends. Her home. Her country. Her dreams. Was it all going to end? Here? A damn Swiss metro platform of all places? Was death like this? Sudden and cruel?

But it never came. Instead, the dead look on the grey eyes turned into something more lifelike: Amazement.

Hermione didn't know how long they both stared at each other. Then the door suddenly closed.

Hermione, still frozen, felt a strong pull around her neck. Looking down she saw that her scarf was caught between the doors and had gone inside the train that was leaving now.

Realizing that she was just a second from throttling to death, Hermione frantically scrambled for the knot. Damn it! Who told her tie that knot? Now she was going to be dragged alongside the train by it and die.

She tried to stand up but her knees were too weak for it. She tried to release the scarf but it was too strong for her. The loop around her neck was tightening when with audible reaping sound the scarf tore and she fell back on the platform, landing on her back.

She watched as the train disappeared into the dark tunnel.

The grey eyed man was still staring at her in amazement, his revolver in mid air.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Thanks to Cordee and jadjef for their reviews on last chapter. Thanks everyone for follows and favourites._

 _I am sorry for being pretty irregular with this story. For some time, my main focus was The Poisoned Apple and now that one of its crucial parts is over, I took leave to finish off another chapter from The Secret Fire. I remind my readers again, that TSF is an AU story and those who are looking for magic here won't find one. The characters are all Muggles and slightly OOC which was written like that._

 _***Einsiedeln's Hospital is named after one of the Swiss shrines on Lady Einsiedeln of Zürich. Other people, places except for Geneva and accounts, are completely imaginary and fictional._

 _This chapter is rated: M._

 _Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental_.

 **Chapter Two**

 _Three days ago._

Draco solemnly unloaded his double action revolver and after removing the cartridges, made sure his little toy was visually empty.

From behind the protective glasses, the gaze of his impassive and cold grey eyes passed through each of the six bullet chambers and he pulled the trigger, uncocked the gun, checked it one last time before packing it for the day. For the days he didn't have any hunting to do, that was his routine: shooting practices, packing the revolver and leaving for his workplace.

Theodore Nott Senior was watching his pupil work from the balcony over the shooting practice range. He considered Lucius Malfoy's only living son, Draco Malfoy, almost like his own was, Theodore Nott Junior. The two kids have grown up together; went to the same school, high school, medical school and been virtually inseparable for last twenty years. Theo and Draco. Draco and Theo. Those who saw them together would mistake them as brothers.

He sighed. The good days were gone now. This Draco that he knew was nothing but a shadow of the robust past he was. The twenty eight year old doctor and a winner of the gold medal for Outstanding Achievements in the Field of Plastic Surgery hardly ever smiled. Malfoy Senior and Nott Senior both had always expected Draco to have a very bright future in any career he partook. That future was obscured now, behind the cloud of uncertainty. Draco Malfoy was now up to something else.

"Uncle, I am leaving." The call brought Nott Senior to reality and he refocused his gaze on Draco. His packing was done and he was looking up at him from the firing range below, waving his hands in a curt farewell. Nott Senior tried to conjure a smile and waved back. Draco didn't smile back but nodded and left, as cold as ever.

•••••

Hermione donned her best dress for the upcoming interview scheduled in two hours.

For physicians, according to Hermione who was one, clothing was more than a matter of personal style; it was an emblem of their honour, specialty, training and culture. It was a way of silent communication with their patients, a mode of creating a trustable impression on their minds. She wasn't a sophisticated or stylish woman herself; in her case, the contrary was the truth. But Hermione loved to dress neatly and be distinctive at the same time. Therefore, for her interview with the Head of the Department of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery at the Lady Einsiedeln's Hospital, Geneva, she has chosen a blue and white polka dot dress, something that would go with her white apron very well.

She checked her reflection on the mirror one last time. The woman who looked back was in her mid twenties, had bushy but manageable curls and a pair of chocolate brown eyes that spoke of the sharp brain the owner had. She tilted her head, checked her reflection for another minute, laughed out loud when she remembered that she was Dr. Hermione Granger, the very famous _geek_ of her class whom no one would date, and screamed softly when the clock said that she had another one and half hours to reach her hospital. If she continued this narcissistic pursuits of her own image, she would surely be late.

Swinging the bag over her shoulder, Hermione wished herself a good luck and left the hostel room she had been allotted to live while working in Einsiedeln's as a British scholarship holder. She would need to take a taxi to get to the said hospital.

•••••

Draco shook his head when his cell phone rang. It was the third time in twenty minutes since he had left the shooting range and he didn't like answering calls while driving. It was distracting and he hated distractions.

He ignored the call and drove on. He was on his way to Malfoy Memorial Hospital, a private treatment facility for the low income group. The Malfoys were once very famous for their charity works but since his father passed away, nothing of the old glory remained but this hospital which Draco ran single handedly. Today was Monday, first day of the week and he had a lot of patients to handle, meaning he wouldn't be at home before midnight.

The cell phone continued to ring and huffing in anger, Draco pulled off his blue Volkswagen Touareg before checking the blasted cell phone. The name on the screen read 'Professor Greengrass'.

Not wasting another moment, Draco answered the call.

"Good morning, Professor." He said as soon as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Good morning, Draco." the man greeted back from the other end. His voice was slightly husky but sounded better than their last conversation. "Not in a mood to answer your old teacher's call?" he jibed him but didn't seem very displeased about it, though.

"No, professor, my cell phone was in silent mode." Draco lied smoothly, his eyes on the road as cars of the morning traffic drove past his. The man was his eccentric teacher from medical school. "How are you, sir? When did you return from Germany? How was your treatment? Did it go well?"

"Too many questions, Draco." the man chastised him gently; a sound of small laughter was heard too. "Why don't you come and see me yourself? That way you'll be assured as to what is left of your beloved old professor and what should be the size of the casket you lot would be burying me in."

Draco snorted. The frail old man never failed to marvel him.

"I'll be at Einsiedeln's, sir, I promise." He assured him.

"Can you come here in half an hour?" his professor asked him, sounding genuinely sincere. "I want you by my side for an interview I have arranged with the new doctors of my department."

"Now?" Draco glanced at the accumulating traffic. Einsiedeln's Hospital was another twenty minutes drive and he was in a hurry to reach his own workplace, which was just a block away.

"I'd be obliged." The man said and with a goodbye, hung up.

Draco huffed again and pocketed his cell phone. He took a U-turn and left for Einsiedeln's.

•••••

The taxi Hermione hired was stuck on a traffic jam for last twenty minutes. Switzerland being a small country and with 7.8 million people moving around in a limited space, traffic jams were inevitable and frequent, especially in agglomerations, cities and also on motorways. Driving too fast was sometimes not even an option, especially when one was in a hurry. Most of the cities were built before motoring came into being and Hermione, hailing from London with the similar traffic conditions there, wondered if she should leave the taxi be and take the metro instead.

The taxi driver, a stout man of his mid forties, conked the horn impatiently and slumped on the driving seat with a loud huff. The rows of cars before him wouldn't budge an inch.

"Monsieur, I think I'll leave the taxi." Hermione made up her mind and said. She just couldn't be late for her first ever interview with the Head of her Department.

The taxi driver grunted but she handed him a fresh bill of ten Swiss francs, dismissing his protests. She got off from the car, stepped on the footpath and soon mixed with the tide of the pedestrians, desperately wishing that she reach Einsiedeln's on time.

Monsieur Greengrass, Head of the department of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery at the Einsiedeln's Hospital, Geneva, was a very famous name in Europe and to those who went under his knife for plastic surgery. The list included almost all the celebrities, though they would never admit it before the press and media.

Hermione couldn't care less about celebrities. She was never interested in their news or juicy gossips. She came by the name of Greengrass through a few articles on medical journals which were on human face reconstruction, especially those of the burn patients. The subject fascinated her and she started dreaming of being a prominent and promising name on that field as Greengrass was.

After her graduation, Hermione's first project was to persuade Greengrass to give her a scholarship in his department. She needed firsthand experience of working under him. It was quite well known that the man was pretty eccentric and chose only the best as his apprentices. After monthes of waiting and numerous e-mails, she finally got the scholarship at Einsiedeln's, to work under Greengrass. It was the best day of her life and Hermione packed her bag, kissed her dentist parents goodbye and took the earliest flight to Geneva, Switzerland. Now she was one step closer to her dreams.

The man she was eagerly looking forward to work with, however, went to Germany for treatment purposes when she arrived at Geneva. Hermione was a bit disappointed that she missed the first interview with him but was relieved to learn that the veteran doctor wasn't leaving his post. She had crossed her fingers and prayed for his early recovery. In the weeks that followed, she had settled down in her new life which mainly encompassed around reading in her hostel room, at the library, in the metro and virtually anywhere where it wasn't considered obscene. Her parents would call her up once every day and listen to her account of the new city that was Geneva.

This morning, however and to Hermione's extreme delight, she was contacted by Greengrass's office at Einsiedeln's and informed that the reputed surgeon was back and has asked for an interview with all his new apprentices. Hermione didn't waste another moment and cancelled her day long plan of reading at the library. Finally, she was going to meet her mentor.

Hermione quickened her steps. She had another forty five minutes to get to Einsiedeln's and regrettably, she still hasn't got into a metro. The boulevards she walked by were still packed with the traffic and the air was thick with the deafening sounds of their collective motor horns. What a bad morning to meet her boss! How was she going to reach there in time?

She tsk'ed and checked the map. It said a metro was at fifteen minutes walking distance. She kicked herself internally. She should have taken the metro instead of the taxi. That way, she would have reached her hospital by now.

Cursing her foolishness on an important day as this, Hermione reached the intersection between four roads. The boulevard she had just left ended here and led to three others. For a busy square road that should be bustling with cars this time of the morning, it was completely deserted. The traffic from all the four roads has been blocked and the place was now full of police and ambulance crews.

Like most of the other pedestrians, Hermione stopped to have a better look of what was happening there. Three half smashed cars came into view. Several bodies on stretchers and covered in white sheets were being taken up at the back of two ambulances. They were dead bodies. It was the scene of a deadly car accident.

'…Heard one of the drivers was underage…'

'…I heard she was sixteen!...'

'…tsk…tsk…tsk... what a shame! I wonder what the police does these days…not spotting an underage driver…tsk…tsk…The woman who died left behind three kids. One of them was hurt too…'

Hermione, her ears at the ongoing conversation scanned the scene for any survivors. She spotted one. A girl not older than six was being carried to a nearest ambulance. One look at her and Hermione knew something was wrong.

"Hey!" she exclaimed to draw the attention of the paramedics. A few onlookers startled and looked at her instead. She ignored it. "Don't move her neck! You will kill her!" forgetting her priceless interview, she darted forward to instruct them.

•••••

Even for the very patient man that he was, Draco's fingers drummed on the steering wheel impatiently. He was a surgeon and their first trait was patience with patients which it was running thin now. He has been stuck in this blasted traffic jam for twenty minutes now.

He lowered the driver's side of the window and craned his neck out. The rows of cars before him were motionless as if dead. At this rate he would late for the interview and for his work.

He sighed, turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. He was going to investigate the matter thoroughly.

Draco locked his Volkswagen and joined the stream of pedestrians that would take him to the head of the boulevard he was driving on before being stuck there. The traffic light was changing from red to yellow to green but for some reason the cars were being halted. Was some visiting Head of the State on move? Or was it some foolish director from the Hollywood shooting for the next installments of Mission Impossible or Iron Man or whatever nonsense?

Draco curled his lips in disgust. He hated movies. They were complete nonsense and a waste of his precious time. Besides, he was better than any of those moronic actors who posed as if they were the last man standing between the end of the world and the evil.

Draco snorted. Evil? Yes. He was familiar with it: the evil. Wasn't he one of them too?

It took him ten minutes to reach the place that was the root of all problems: the square road where four boulevards intersected. The problem however, wasn't what he was expecting.

Nor was a visiting Head of the State on the move neither was a shooting underway. There were no cameras, motorbikes, reflectors or extra actors dresses as fake polices. What came into view was more real than that.

Three cars, a white Skoda, a black Ford and a green Honda were crumpled from the force of which they had collided with each other. The rear and the front windshields were all smashed. Several bodies covered in white were being lifted on the back of two ambulances. Draco counted them. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five causalities. Five people died in a road accident on a busy city intersection like this and therefore, the police was holding back the traffic, until they had the road cleared.

Draco shrugged carelessly. Being a doctor and a hunter, death didn't affect him as it affected others, notably the excited crowd around him. His nerves were seasoned. He carried revolver in his car and used it whenever necessary. He was about to turn away from a mundane scene as this and return to his own vehicle when something or better saw someone drew his attention.

The woman was dressed in a white and blue polka dress and she was waving at the paramedics like a wild cat did when someone trod on its precious tail. Draco stopped. There was something in the gesture of that woman in blue that has caught his attention.

The woman rushed to the team of paramedics who were trying to lift an unconscious girl on a stretcher. Draco arched his eyebrow. Who were these fools actually? Didn't they know that accident victims shouldn't be lifted like that? It could hurt their spines if they didn't take care to fix the neck first.

Carelessness was something Draco couldn't tolerate. Human life was no laughing stock. The girl could have died hadn't that woman interfered at the right moment. Draco watched her from the depth of the crowd. She seemed like a doctor too. She might not be on duty but the air of authority, the voice, the gesture, the knowledge, even the way she checked the pulse told him so. Lucky little girl! The woman has saved her life.

He watched her for another half an hour, the time the police took to bring a tow truck and evacuate the three smashed vehicles. The woman in polka dot dress did everything she could and Draco knew to make sure that the girl was not manhandled. Some curious onlookers took her photo in their cell phones. It annoyed Draco greatly. This was no shooting spot and the woman was no bikini clad model asking to be on the front page of the Vogue magazine. She was a doctor doing a noble job. He followed her with his eyes as long as she helped the paramedics. Then to his slight dismay, the girl was taken to the hospital and she disappeared into the crowd on the other side of the road.

As the traffic slowly started to roll on, Draco returned to his Volkswagen and climbed into his seat. He was three quarter of an hour late for the interview at Einsiedeln's.

•••••

A breathless Hermione arrived at Einsiedeln's half an hour late for her dream interview. She practically had to run the distance between the metro and the hospital complex and was thankful that she didn't sprain her ankles on the way. She walked into the large Hospital atrium and without checking her reflection in any of the polished glass doors, rushed for the nearest lift.

The Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery Department was on the fifth floor and when she came out the lift, Hermione was in a complete mess. Her dress was wrinkled at places with specks of blood from the girl she had tried her best to help. She was sweating and some of the loose hair was hanging like a curtain before her face. She shoved them back impatiently and wished she could tidy herself up before she met her new professor.

"Dr. Hermione Granger." she told her name to the assistant who checked the name on the list and gave her skeptic look, noting her attire and appearance. Hermione lifted her chin loftily. Neat and tidy or not, she was a doctor and certainly wouldn't allow anyone to frown at her.

"You are late. The interview is almost over." The assistant told her with an air of extreme disdain. "Sit there and I'll inform Monsieur Greengrass about you." she motioned Hermione to take a seat in a row of chairs opposite her desk.

Hermione nodded and slumped on the nearest chair. Her feet were aching badly and she couldn't help but wince slightly. She opened her bag and searched for a comb. It had everything she could need but a comb. She shook her head in disbelief and smoothed her hair with plain hands. Talk of being a geek and here she was, Hermione Granger, who would carry portable medical books in her bag but not a comb or a face wash to groom her a bit when in need.

The assistant, who had disappeared inside Dr. Greengrass's office previously, came out and silently motioned her to enter. Hermione sighed gravely and stood up. Someone had said that first impression was the best impression. Now this would be her first impression: looking a scarecrow.

•••••

Draco walked past Dr. Greengrass's assistant without a glance at her. The woman gave her an oily smile which he ignored completely.

"Welcome, Draco, my boy." His old teacher greeted him as soon as he opened his office door. The place was quite spacious with a large window as a backdrop. Greengrass's large and cluttered desk was placed before it. The small man appeared even smaller in his large swivel chair. Draco nodded and greeted back.

"You are late." Dr. Greengrass said, checking his wrist watch and motioning him to take a seat by him. Draco noted that five other doctors from the Surgery department were seated around the desk too. The only empty seat was at the far end of the room. He went for it. It would give him good cover.

"No, Draco. Sit here." Greengrass asked the man sitting beside him to move sideways and make space for his esteemed guest. Draco, however, held up a hand and assured him that he was comfortable where he was. He knew it very well why Greengrass was so eager to have him by his side.

"I am fine, Professor." He said, taking the chair with an air of no interest to leave it any sooner. "Please carry on with your interview."

"It's almost done." Dr. Greengrass told him, "We had five new scholarship holders this year. Three from Switzerland, one from France and one from Britain. The first four turned up in time and the last, still hasn't. And here I was, thinking that the British were _very_ punctual." His husky voice was full of delicate scorn.

Draco, who was half French from father's side and half British from his mother's side, was about to reply when the female assistant walked in to the office with a knock.

"Monsieur, the last candidate has arrived." she informed Greengrass.

"Send her in." Greengrass nodded curtly.

Draco took out his cell phone and started typing a text to Theo. The man needed to be notified that he would late today.

"May I come in, sir?" a female voice asked. Draco identified the British accent in it but didn't look up. He hardly cared for the interview and would like to depart as soon as he could.

"Yes." Greengrass replied authoritatively. Draco heard soft footfalls, the sound of a chair being drawn and someone seating on it. Someone sighed heavily.

"You are late Dr…" Greengrass paused and shifted a few papers.

"Granger, sir, Dr. Hermione Granger." the voice said.

"Yes, Dr. Granger. You are late for your interview." Greengrass resumed carelessly.

"I apologize for being late, sir, but some circumstances came up that couldn't be avoided. I was on my way to Einsiedeln's when an accident happened." The woman said.

"Is that _blood_ on your dress?" Greengrass's last question and the woman's last statement made Draco leave his texting and look up.

Next moment, he froze.

There she sat, the woman he had seen helping the girl in that accident. Her blue and white polka dot dress was wrinkled at places with some added red dots of blood. Her unruly brown curls had left the restraints of many hairclips and hanging loose. The only thing that seemed perfectly set on place was the eyes. They were chocolate brown with a generous speck of brilliance and kindness.

Draco blinked and tried to recall her name. It was something with 'G'. Or was it 'H'?

"I was on my way to Einsiedeln's when the traffic suddenly stopped. I was getting late. So I left the taxi and started for the nearest metro…" She was telling Dr. Greengrass and discarding his attempts to remember her name, Draco focused on her story. It matched with what he has witnessed. The accident. The little girl. The effort to help. Everything. In the end, Greengrass gave her a rare smile that was reserved for those whom he considered special.

"Well done." He said and the other doctors sitting around his desk nodded in agreement. "So, you are from Britain?"

"Yes, sir." The woman replied politely.

"Why choose Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery?" Greengrass went back to his official enquiry.

"I was drawn to it after reading your articles on reconstruction of burn patient's faces." The woman replied, "Most of these patients are forced to live like social outcasts because of the ridicules they face for their disfigured features. Some don't find a good partner. Some are not given work on the basis of disability. My sole goal is to employ my knowledge to help them."

"Really?" Greengrass arched a skeptic eyebrow. Draco could tell that his teacher was impressed no matter how he portrayed outwardly.

"Yes, sir." The woman nodded solemnly. Draco found no reason to doubt her. She had already shown what she was and what she could be.

The interview went on for another ten minutes during which Greengrass asked her some tricky questions. Draco was expecting her to fail but she answered them all very well. She seemed to have studied her subject and was focused solely on Greengrass, which gave Draco ample opportunity to study her from his seat. In the end, Greengrass bade her farewell with a broad smile.

"Marvelous girl." He said as soon she left. Draco was still looking at the seat she had occupied. For some inexplicable reason he felt quite drawn to her.

"Draco, dearest." his professor called him as the other doctors took leave. Draco knew there was no way he could avoid the topic now. He sighed internally, left his seat and walked to his teacher's desk.

"Astoria was complaining to me this morning that you didn't visit them while I was away." Dr. Greengrass said as Draco settled down on the chair he had indicated.

"I am very sorry, sir, but I hardly had the time to breathe properly." Draco said with as much politeness as he could conjure. He spotted a British style curriculum vitae lying before him. A photograph of the woman who has just left was enclosed on the upper right corner. He examined it as outwardly carelessly as possible. "Sir, you know that I have to manage both our family business and the hospital." He continued the conversation casually.

"But Daphne and Astoria were alone." his teacher chastised him mildly. "And it is no secret that Astoria likes to have your company."

"No, it is not." Draco admitted curtly, his eyes roving down the entire CV. The woman's name was Dr. Hermione Granger.

"I was planning to talk to your mother about her." Greengrass said, and Draco looked up. He was expecting this to happen. His old teacher was adamant to have him as his son-in-law. "Has Madame Narcissa returned from Zürich?" he asked.

"No, sir." Draco replied. "She is planning to stay there for some time."

"It's alright." Greengrass said with a small sigh, "There is another thing I want to ask you, Draco."

Draco nodded, his eyes on his teacher and the piece of paper held between his fingers.

"One of our old doctors would be retiring very soon." Greengrass started very innocently, "I want to you join in his place."

"In Einsiedeln's?" Draco was stunned internally but didn't show it on his features. This was too much. He was just twenty eight and very junior for such posts in a highly reputed hospital like Einsiedeln's.

"Why not?" Greengrass, it seemed has done his homework very well. "You are a gold medalist in this field, Draco. Who is better than you? Can you suggest me anyone else?" he demanded.

"But, sir, I am very junior for such a post." Draco replied honestly, "Besides, I am already very busy with the family business and our own hospital. I won't be able to give my patients my fullest dedication." He opted to leave out his hunting service from the list. That was not his profession; that was his passion.

"Leave that to me." Greengrass smiled generously and waved aside his protests. "I have already talked about you to the Hospital Director. He said he would be happy to have you."

Draco shook his head internally. The man was after him like a leech was after blood. "Fine, sir, I'll think about it." he said after a while.

Assured that he had his victim ensnared, Greengrass stood up. His small form looked frail but Draco knew how very cunning this man's brain alone was.

"Come, son." he extended a hand at him and folding the CV of Hermione Granger as if it was one of his own papers, Draco took the offered hand.

"Thank you, sir, for inviting me to the interview." He said with a mysterious smile.

•••••

 _Three days later._

Hermione was still gaping at the Metro train as it left the underground platform, her mind in a whirlwind of emotions.

Fear was the prominent but it was slowly being superseded by astonishment and confusion. Why didn't the pirate man alias grey eyed blonds kill her too? She was the eye witness of the murder he committed on board.

She looked down at the torn end of her scarf. He had been holding them under his feet to prevent her from escaping. Why didn't he shoot her then? What was holding him back? The death was standing before her, to kiss her and bestow his horrific blessings on her and yet it left without touching her, returned empty handed. Hermione was confused, extremely lucky but very confused.

She pinched herself hard and winced. She was alive and not dreaming. After the initial shock was over, the first thought that popped inside her over wrought mind was:

'Hermione Granger, you get to a police station right now!'

As if driven by some unknown force, Hermione's feet propelled her to the nearest exit.

•••••

The metro train was rattling under Draco's feet but he sat on one of the seats, oblivious of the time, place, or in this case, the current situation.

The torn piece of Dr. Hermione Granger's scarf was still under left foot, where he had held it deliberately to prevent her from leaving the train. After finishing of his prey successfully, Draco had taken off his disguise mask and left the crime scene, not knowing that an eye witness was crouching and hiding under one of the metallic seats. It had never occurred to him that his plan could go horribly wrong. He had finished eighteen of these _things_ before and left behind nothing but the wigs and masks that he put on while killing them. The police, he knew, was puzzled and far from solving the mystery. Now they had a strong evidence. An eye witness who knew how the killer really looked like.

Draco tsk'ed but couldn't make himself show one reason to finish off Hermione Granger. That woman was innocent and simply at the wrong place in the wrong time. He could surely find out other ways to silence her forever. He was Draco Malfoy after all.

When the train stopped at the next station, he stooped and retrieved the torn piece of scarf from under the sole of his shoe. Now all he needed was to reach her before she reached the police station.

•••••

Interpol Special Investigating Officer, Harry Potter was deeply lost in his own thoughts when his subordinate handed him a phone. He listened to the man on the other end silently and nodded with a curt 'ok' before hanging up.

"The victim's name is Rick van Dyke. Dutch." The officer told him, shifting through some papers, "Convicted killer and member of an underground gang called the 'red dots'. His name is under the list of ten first degree murders, two attempted assaults, two burglaries and…" Harry held up his hand to stop the flow of information.

Not even an hour ago, he was on his way to home when the local Swiss police called him up and informed about a dead body that was found under the similar conditions as eighteen others before it: a man shot to death after brutal beating and a mask and wig on the spot. He had rushed to the crime scene which in this case was a metro train compartment. The body was examined separately by Interpol forensics and the local Swiss police for traces of finger prints or any other evidences that could be used as a possible lead to catch the perpetrator. Harry was in complete darkness until the phone call arrived just a few seconds ago.

The officer from a police station not very far from the place he was standing on told him that they had an eye witness of the murder on metro. It was a doctor by the name of Hermione Granger.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**_ Thanks to SereniteRose for review on last chapter. Thanks everyone for follows and favourites.

***Let me remind everyone that the characters you read here are all Muggles and slightly OOC. _The Poisoned Apple_ and _The Secret Fire_ are complete opposites; the first one is based on reality where I take care to write the crude facts, the second is complete fantasy where I don't bother to make it overly realistic. Please don't compare them.

Now please enjoy and you can leave your reviews on this chapter, if you like.

This chapter is rated: M.

A new Pinterest page on TSF has been opened; the link is in my profile.

Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental.

 **Chapter Three**

Hermione Granger's face was buried in her trembling hands when a Swiss officer offered her a glass of water.

"Mademoiselle?" He called for her attention and she looked up. "Water." He said, showing her the clear liquid in the transparent glass.

Hermione blinked. For a clear headed person with good Intelligent Quotient she was too shocked to even accept the glass. She wanted to chastise her, tell her to pull herself together and be the brave person she was known to be. She was a doctor and they were reputed to have good nerves. But no matter how hard she tried, the gaze of those cold grey eyes behind the barrel of that revolver curdled the very blood in her veins.

"Water, Mademoi…" the officer couldn't finish this time. Hermione almost snatched the glass from his hands and emptied it in one go. She was thirsty and she needed to prove that she was capable of feeling something or anything at all.

"Officer Potter is on his way." The man told her calmly. He seemed to have sensed her intense fear. Hermione nodded, not bothering to ask who the hell this Potter was.

"He is the Interpol officer in-charge of this case." The man was trying to make her talk. Hermione, after her first recount of events, seemed to have neither strength nor words left to express her feelings. She just sat there, like a frigid doll, waiting for something or someone to bring her out of that trance and assure her that her life was not destroyed. She was there to pursue her dreams of becoming a successful surgeon and now a cold-blooded killer was hunting her like a shark after its prey.

"Should I bring more water?" the officer asked and Hermione shook her head. She didn't know what she needed, so clogged was her mental state. It was awfully overwhelming considering the fact that Hermione had always been a very logical and bright woman. She felt like a failure now and all because of a man who didn't or maybe, couldn't kill her.

"You are safe here." The young officer assured her with a kind smile. Hermione was ready to believe anything but that statement. After what she had witnessed in that metro, she doubted if she was safe in any place than heaven.

The man left and came back with another glass of water. A silent Hermione accepted and finished it too. She just needed to keep her mind and hand, occupied by any means.

•••••

Malfoy Manor, the official residence of the Malfoy and allied families in Geneva, Switzerland was situated on the left bank of Lake Geneva, on a posh neighbourhood named Eaux-Vives. The twelfth century house with a 2000 square meters of staggering habitable area stood proudly on another twenty five hectares of land with its own lake, orchard and formal gardens. The main building comprised of twelve apartments for the members of the family, a private Ball room, a music room, a bar, a kitchen with cold room, commissary, laundry room, bridge room, a grand library, half a dozen changing rooms, garage and several outbuildings where uniformed sentries were commissioned as guards. For such a huge home, the place housed only four people: Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks.

Andromeda and Narcissa were sisters with a common maiden name of Black. They had another sister by the name of Bellatrix, who lived in England with her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. The Lestranges were proud of their close personal relationship with the English Monarchs, an epidemic that has infected their daughter-in-law, Bellatrix too, who kept minimum contact with Andromeda and Narcissa, the widows of Edward 'Ted' Tonks, and Lucius Malfoy, respectively.

Dora and Draco, Andromeda's daughter and Narcissa's son might not have grown up together for Draco was born and raised in Geneva while Dora spent most of her life in Scotland, but the cousins enjoyed a good friendship. Dora didn't mind tolerating Draco's cold and impassive exterior and Draco didn't complain of Dora's lively attitude towards life. The former was a bit clumsy and liked her things messy; the latter liked everything to be perfect.

The night Draco finished off Rick van Dyke and failed to do the same with Hermione Granger, he returned to Malfoy Manor, looking visibly disturbed. In the absence of his mother, aunt 'Dromeda was in-charge of the family. Like her sisters, she was clever a woman and noted the sober and thoughtful demeanor Draco put on as soon as he walked into the Manor. This meant trouble.

"Is everything alright, Draco?" she asked him, taking the black coat from his hands and folding it into two. The Malfoys had a butler for such petty jobs but Andromeda liked to take care of her extended family. It felt good.

"Is Dora home?" was all that she received as an answer. Draco was more silent than ever.

"She just returned from her duty." Andromeda replied. Her daughter was a prominent officer for the Swiss Cantonal police.

Draco nodded a small thanks, his own distinctive way of acknowledgement and left without another word. Andromeda stood on the doorway, a deep furrow between her eyebrows.

Dora was detangling her burgundy hair with violet highlights and preparing for a long perfumed bath when her esteemed cousin walked into her apartment without bothering to knock.

"Draco!" she shook her head in disbelief. Would he never learn to deal women with some delicacy and respect? The man, however, went straight to the pile of uniform she had taken off earlier. He recovered her cell phone from its depth and came to her, holding it out in a silent command. Not for once did he look at her tank top and shorts.

"What?" Dora asked, feeling her temper rise from her cousin's eccentric behaviour. He has completely gone after his father when oddity was concerned.

"I want you to find me where this person is." Draco replied nonchalantly and handed her both the cell phone and a folded piece of paper. Dora unfolded the paper first. It was a CV of a woman named Dr. Hermione Granger. She was hailing from Britain. Dora blinked. This was the first time Draco was asking her to investigate about a member of the opposite sex.

"Your new girl friend got arrested?" she frowned slightly, conveying her skepticism. Draco didn't reply.

"Draco, I can't help you unless you tell me what it is." Dora left her mockery and turned serious.

"Just find out where she is." Draco repeated his earlier command. He seemed unusually quiet.

"Fine." Dora said and dialed the hotline number reserved for the Swiss police. As a prominent officer she had instant access to most of the information shared between officers and it didn't take her more than five minutes to coerce the facts she needed. Dr. Hermione Granger, an eye witness to a gruesome murder on a metro was currently on police custody and waiting to be interrogated by an Interpol officer by the name of Harry Potter.

Dora was pale as she hung up the phone. The mystery behind Draco's unusual silence was solved.

"She is in police custody." She suspected him to know the rest already, "An Interpol officer by the name of Harry Potter would be attending her soon."

"Thanks." Draco nodded solemnly and left as silently as he had come. Dora stood like a statue. The overall situation was not favourable for her cousin but if she knew him well, which she did, Draco would not be leaving this woman alone for some time now.

•••••

Officer Harry Potter's sturdy boots disturbed the soot on the floor as he walked through the many corridors. Another officer from the local Swiss police led the way for him. The eye witness, he was told, was waiting in a third floor interview room. He didn't bother to take the lift; the stairs would take him to her faster.

Harry hated wasting time no matter what the occasion was. At twenty eight, he was one of the very few officers from England who had made it to the Interpol through his work and dedication and he intended to keep it that way. Solving this case was crucial for him now and the key to it was a certain doctor named Hermione Granger.

The said woman, he noted as soon as he walked into the interview room, was too shocked to even talk properly. She was pale and sweaty even in the air conditioned room with a blank face that spoke of immense fear. A young Swiss officer was attending to her, assuring her that everything would be fine. Harry wondered what could have frightened a doctor like that. He regarded them as nerveless as most police and law enforcement personals were; nothing ever scared a doctor, and they scared all.

"Dr. Granger, Harry Potter." He held out a steady hand to her. The doctor's brown eyes moved over it but she didn't accept or shake it. Her bushy brown curls were sooty at places. Harry wondered if she had witnessed the murder from under the shelter of seats.

"Are you the Interpol officer they are talking about?" she asked him, trying to appear calm with visible efforts.

"I am." Harry nodded solemnly and took a steel chair opposite to her. Not everyone who visited a police station should be treated the same way, he believed this motto whole-heartedly. This woman was a doctor and from the looks of her, an honourable one. He certainly couldn't handle her like he would a common street whore. With her, he needed to be patient and gentle. "I am in-charge of the all the eighteen murders that we suspect was committed by the same man."

As expected, Dr. Hermione Granger gulped and turned, if possible, paler. She was nervous now. Harry knew the signs. A nervous person would bite their lips and Hermione Granger was doing it now.

"You mean that the man I saw in metro committed _eighteen_ murders?" she looked incredulous, blinking rapidly to get over the horrific statistics she was presented with.

"I don't _mean_ it, doctor, I _assume_ it." Harry replied cautiously. He decided to address her as 'doctor' for a while even though they were outside hospital. It would assure the woman that she was in safe hands and would be treated with respect. It might help her to open up more readily too. "We don't have any proof…" he paused, "…except for _your_ testimony."

Hermione Granger nodded uncertainly. Harry assumed she was having in internal fight on whether or not to give the testimony against such an accomplished murderer.

He motioned the other officer to call a sketch artist. They would need him as soon as this woman finished recounting her story. She however, looked anything but comfortable. Harry couldn't blame her. How many ladies would one find who would be happy to testify against a sadistic killer in a foreign country at midnight? From his own experiences with the members of the opposite sex he knew that they loved eating something sweet whenever they were frightened. The act of chewing gave them some time to think on the matter. Men, on the other hand, preferred to smoke when nervous. The fume gave them warmth and assurance. Harry was not a smoker but he always carried a packet of Marlboro filters and two bars of Snickers in his jacket pocket. He took out a bar of Snickers and offered it to Hermione.

"I was told during my combat training that glucose always helps in stress." He told her. Hermione's eyes lingered on the bar and after a moment of undecided discomfort, she accepted it.

"Thanks." She nodded curtly.

Harry leaned against his chair and gave the woman time to finish her little chocolate bar. It would help her cool down. Meanwhile, he watched her carefully without appearing doing so. Women hated and distrusted men who leered or ogled at them. His gaze, therefore, was of disinterested politeness.

The woman was in her most casual outfits. A pair of jeans, a black and white dress shirt with a flower patterned scarf hanging loose from her neck. Strangely, the ends of the scarf were torn. Harry frowned slightly. Did it get torn while she was escaping or trying to escape? Or was it some strange new fashion? But Hermione Granger looked anything but a fashionable woman. Yes, she was well dressed but they were not something too cheeky or erotic. She was normal, very normal, in fact.

"Is there is any washroom here?" Hermione asked, finishing the chocolate bar. She looked better now. The rosy glows in her cheeks were back and the sweats had dried up. Harry motioned the other officer to show her the ladies' rest room. He liked it that the Swiss police stations had that separate facility for women. Hermione left with the officer. As soon as the door closed behind her, harry jumped out his seat and made a quick but effective search of her belongings.

The bag, it appeared couldn't hold more books. Three thick tomes were painstakingly crammed into it, all on Surgery and reconstruction of human faces. Harry checked the side pockets too. A rubber band with several strands of the same unruly brown hair, a pair of pencils, three pens, and some change money came out. On a corner pocket he found an identity card. It bore a photo of Dr. Hermione Granger and was issued under Einsiedeln's Hospital of Geneva. As the doorknob turned, Harry placed everything back on their pockets. He expected the officer to return with Hermione.

But the man who stood on the doorway when the door opened three seconds later wasn't the officer who had left earlier. He was in blue uniforms of Swiss Cantonal Police, with the same green eyes as Harry and a head full of curly blonde hairs. Harry assumed from the build that he might be in his early thirties, for they were pretty good. The unknown officer was taller than he.

"Cormac McLaggen." He walked to Harry after a cold sweep of the room and offered his hand to him, "Geneva Cantonal Police."

"Harry Potter. Interpol." Harry took the hand and shook it. The grip, he noted was powerful.

"I am the officer in charge of these murders on behalf of the Swiss government." McLaggen said, smirking idly, "I was informed that the Interpol has found an eye witness of the latest murder."

"We did." Harry replied curtly. The man had an air of great disdain in his features which he didn't like much. He was also not very willing to share the eye witness with the local police. They were Interpols, after all, the International Police.

"I was told to contact you for further investigation." McLaggen's eyes were scanning Hermione's open bag now. "Is he here?"

Harry snorted. The local police! They didn't even know that the eye witness was not a 'he' but a 'she'.

" _She_ is here." He said with an air of barely hidden annoyance. Whether McLaggen noticed it or not, wasn't clear for he didn't reply or react.

Hermione chose to walk in to the interview room on that moment, accompanied by the officer Harry had sent her with. She looked almost back to normal for she didn't recoil on the sight of another new officer.

"Officer McLaggen is the Swiss police in charge of these murders." Harry informed in response to her questioning look. Hermione nodded at McLaggen. McLaggen, however, stood like an erect lamp post.

"Can we start now?" Harry offered Hermione to take her earlier seat. He needed to the facts as fast as he could. Hermione nodded again and sat down. Harry expected McLaggen to seat but the man went to the only window the room had and looked outside through the minimum gap of the shutters.

Harry decided to ignore him, took out the tape recorder and informed Hermione of her rights and limitations before pressing the 'record' button. She started immediately, recounting how she was returning to her dorm from the library and witnessed a gruesome murder on the metro compartment. Her details were spine chilling and hair raising. Harry was astonished at to how she had watched it all and didn't make one single sound. It was indeed commendable courage.

"I was about to get off when I noticed that my scarf was stuck and holding me back." She was telling them, panic evident in her voice, "I looked back and I saw…him…" she licked her dry lips, "…the revolver was pointed straight to me and…I thought this was…the end…that I would be…dying like this…in a foreign country…alone and…helpless…I even…considered…closing my eyes…because I couldn't make myself…to look at the bullet…that would finish…me off…and then…suddenly the door closed and…the scarf…got ripped and I fell back…the killer was still holding his gun…when the train disappeared…inside the tunnel…" she paused and sighed, "I don't know why he didn't kill me too." She confessed honestly.

Harry was thinking along the same line too. His own version of the events were slightly different, though. He had thought that Hermione has barely escaped and the killer didn't know that such an eye witness existed. But now that the truth was out, it complicated the matter greatly. The killer would be after Hermione now, to finish off what he had left behind first time.

"Have you seen him before?" it was McLaggen who asked that question. He was still looking out through the window, his back on them. Harry was greatly annoyed. Who told him to talk when an Interpol officer was looking over the matter?

"No, officer." Hermione replied in response to McLaggen's query. "He looked…I don't know…how to tell you…like a…like someone from a good family…not the street killer type, if you know what I mean." She said matter-of-factly.

"And how do the street killers look like exactly?" McLaggen asked her again.

Hermione gave Harry a puzzled look and he motioned her to remain quiet. The eccentric officer was trying to play cat and mouse with their prime and only eye witness. Bullshit. This was not McLaggen's local office. Interpol was the authority here and he could go and drown himself in whatever hell he wanted and Harry couldn't care less.

"We will know soon how this Prince Charming looked like." He said and indicated the sketch artist to start doing his job. The man had his laptop ready and on his words, started drawing a digital image of the murderer as per Hermione's description.

"…the hair was blonde…silvery blonde…no…no…a little lighter…yes…that's the right shade…"

"…the eyes were grey…light grey and cold…very cold…"

"How do I draw _cold_?" the artist asked Hermione, looking up from the digital sketch. Harry gave him a stern look. This was not the time for jokes.

"…his nose was pointed…no…a little bit pointed than that…" Hermione resumed her instructions.

"Does he sharp his nose like pencils?" the artist asked humorously but changed the features nonetheless. Harry waited patiently for it to be done properly.

"Here it is." The artist said as soon as Hermione gave him an approving nod. Harry looked over his shoulder for the first glimpse of the man he was looking for so desperately.

Dr. Granger was right. The man didn't look like one who was a street killer. The aristocratic features bore clear signs of being well brought up.

"Looks like some sort of blonde womanizer model to me." McLaggen commented in a bored voice and harry closed his eyes in extreme irritation. "Madame, are you sure, the killer looked like _this_ and is not a product of your _erotic dreams_?" he asked Hermione.

"What do you mean?" she flared up at once, greatly insulted.

"He means that he watches a lot of pornography." Harry said before McLaggen could. He turned and faced the man. A few things needed to be put straight.

"Officer McLaggen." Harry folded his muscular arms over his broad chest, "This is an Interpol case and your involvement is neither required not necessary. So, if you don't want me to kick you out of my office, I would want you to behave yourself in the presence of a lady in future." He said sternly.

McLaggen smirked and nodded, not taking his cold green eyes off Harry.

"I apologize, Madame." He said intending his words to Hermione who looked away in disgust. "But in our line, we are used to talking like this."

"The 'P' of Police stands for _polite_ , officer." She said to McLaggen at last, "At least in Britain it does. I don't know about Switzerland."

"It is the same here too." the officer who was taking care of Hermione before Harry came in, said this time. "Not all Swiss police are the same, Mademoiselle." He eyed McLaggen darkly.

Hermione smiled at him. Harry noticed that it was her first time since he arrived here about an hour ago.

"I want you to mail a copy of this drawing to every concerned authority and run a scan to identify the possible killer." He took his eyes off her and instructed the other officer who nodded. "I want this man before morning, understood?"

The officer nodded again. He was taking Harry more seriously than McLaggen.

"Come with me, doctor." He hoisted Hermione's heavy bag on his shoulder and beckoned her. She was staring fixedly at the digital portrait of the killer. The artist was making copies of it to be sent to the local police for verification.

"Where?" she asked him, finally taking her eyes off the screen. They roved down her bag that was hanging from his right shoulder. Harry identified a new emotion in those brown pairs: uncertainty.

"Don't worry, doctor." He smiled at her, "We are taking you to a safe place. Whoever the killer is, he has either seen you or knows you. I don't know how it possible considering the fact that you are new in this city and he has been killing those men for almost two years now. But I have a feeling that he will find out where you live and we can't possibly let that happen."

Hermione nodded in understandment and stood up. "My scholarship, officer." She sighed. "It was my dream to work here." She looked greatly distressed.

"Don't worry about that." Harry held the door open for her, gesturing her to follow him. "We will catch him before he reaches you."

Harry closed the door as soon as Hermione came out. McLaggen could take care of the rest, of course, if he was so accomplished and skilled.

•••••

Draco silently watched Officer Harry Potter and Dr. Hermione Granger leave the interview room. The man had been extremely condescending and had it not been for his disguise, he would have ripped off his tongue for commanding a Malfoy to stay put.

But the tide has changed now. His goal wasn't Potter, it was Granger. The woman marveled him, intrigued him and Draco was always drawn to those who could stir something inside him.

He was reconsidering Dr. Martin Greengrass's offer to join Einsiedeln's pretty seriously now. Astoria? He smirked. Malfoys wouldn't be contended with something as boring as her. They needed someone more interesting, more intelligent and above all, more challenging.

And who was better than Dr. Hermione Granger for that role?


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to SereniteRose and alicia for their reviews on last chapter. Thanks everyone for follows._

 _Hotel d'Angleterre is an actual hotel that I found in Tripadvisor. The rest of it is, of course, imaginary and fictional._

 _Now please enjoy and you can leave your reviews on this chapter, if you like._

 _This chapter is rated: M._

 _A new Pinterest page on TSF has been opened; the link is in my profile._

 _Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental._

 **Chapter Four**

Hotel d'Angleterre on the right bank of Lake Geneva was mostly known to the seasoned travelers as an 'old world charm' with all the modern amenities and a great value for money. Even the presidential suite booked under the name of Harry Potter was no short of beauty and elegance than a palace suite reserved for a princess. The booking fee was reasonable and the great view of the Lake from the balcony was the cherry on top.

Hermione Granger's heart was pounding slightly when the Interpol officer opened the door for her. For a split second she thought it was her honeymoon and the man was her husband, opening the door graciously for his unsuspecting wife. She shook her head the next second. What was she thinking? Who was she kidding actually? Wasn't she on the run from a convicted murderer?

"You don't like the place?" Harry asked noting her hesitation on entering the suite. Hermione conjured a smile with difficulty and shook her head again. She did like the hotel room. It was one of the best she has ever been.

"It's…it's fine." she replied. In reality the room was fine but the setting wasn't. Hermione was never very comfortable with men and here she was, spending a night outside her dorm with a stranger in a foreign land. She felt like calling home and telling her parents everything that had happened but the moment their concerned faces swam into view, she kept discarding the idea. For one, they would tell her to leave the hard-earned scholarship and return home immediately. For another, it would be a great personal insult if she left her dream for her fear of a killer. Wasn't she a doctor? Then how could she settle for the second best? Besides, who could guarantee her that the killer wouldn't follow her to London too?

"After you, doctor." Harry's voice brought her back to reality and nodding, Hermione stepped into the spacious sitting room. The walls were upholstered in green silk and the furniture reminded her of the Tudor times. She felt like stepping back in the time and instinctively, looked down at her plain attire. An elaborate silk dress with frills and flowing skirt would have done well in this atmosphere, not the jeans and dress shirt she was donning.

Officer Potter showed her all the other rooms one by one. Except for the Baroque sitting room, there was a bed chamber, a bathroom, a walk in closet, a kitchenette, and a balcony attached to the place. Hermione was marveled. She wanted to ask who would be paying the rent but Harry Potter's confidence and subtle pride told her that it would be the Interpol.

"It is our special hotel to keep our special guests." He told her, as the tour of the rooms ended, "The place is very secured. Not even a fly can enter the rooms without our prior knowledge."

Hermione believed that statement. Potter wasn't like normal police officers. His mannerism told her that he was different and a very serious man when it came to his job and reputation. Hermione appreciated that greatly. She had noticed how he had offered her a Snickers and defended her before that cold and insensitive Swiss police officer, McLaggen or whatever his name was. Personally, a chill went down Hermione's spine whenever she thought of that man. There was something in him that reminded her of that killer.

"I have sent two female officers to fetch your belongings from the dorm room." Harry said, lowering Hermione's book and bag on a table and wincing slightly. "They'll get your clothes and personal things like diaries and laptop that the killer might steal to collect more information on you."

Hermione nodded. This officer was sharp and seemed to understand the mind setting of the killer very well.

"You said that he killed eighteen people till date." She sat on a sofa and folded her hands on her lap. "Nineteen if we count the one I witnessed." She said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, nineteen." Harry replied curtly, examining an antique vase with great interest. He seemed reluctant to discuss the topic of the killer with her. Hermione wondered if other reason such the Interpol's policy of secrecy was the prime factor here.

They spent another twenty minutes in silence with Harry scrutinizing the antique paintings, flower vases and furniture like an auction dealer and Hermione brooding over her uncertain future. Her course would be starting in a few days and here she was, doomed and trapped in a posh hotel room for the fear of being killed should she stepped outside the security perimeter. She must have sighed too audibly for Harry looked up for his intense examination of a small Victorian table lamp.

"I told you, doctor, there is nothing to worry about." He said and Hermione almost jumped, startled, "We _will_ catch him."

"But he seems like a very smart guy to me." Hermione spoke her mind openly. "He has successfully evaded you for two years."

"Not me." Harry said, leaving the lamp and joining Hermione on the sitting area. "I was given this case just two monthes ago, when the previous officer failed to have any real progress. So, technically he didn't evade _me_ for two _years_."

Hermione couldn't help but snort and smile. This man was amusingly sensitive about his reputation.

"Listen, doctor…" he started but she stopped him.

"Don't call me doctor, okay?" She said, holding up a hand, "You are not my patient. Call me…Hermione."

"Hermione?" Harry nodded, slowly accepting the command, "Then I assume that you should call me Harry too. Right?"

"You from England, Harry?" Hermione went straight to the point.

"Surrey." Harry replied casually, "From a town called Little Whinging."

"I am from London." Hermione said, feeling relieved that a countryman was with her. Her assumptions were right. Harry Potter was a British man and not an American. "I noticed your British accent in the interview room but hesitated to ask where you were hailing from. You were on duty."

"Really?" Harry said, grinning broadly now. "But I must admit that I didn't employ my skills to learn your nationality or analyze your accent. A lot of people in Geneva have dual heritage, father is a French, and mother is a British or Swiss. They speak very good English. You won't be able to place their accents if you heard them speak."

"You have dual heritage parents too?" Hermione was curious to learn more.

"No, mine were pure British." Harry replied curtly. "James and Lily Potter."

" _Were_?" Hermione noted the use of past tense.

"They are dead." Harry said, looking perfectly solemn. "They died when I was one. I was brought up by my uncle and aunt, Vernon and Petunia Dursley."

"Ah…I…see." Hermione refrained from using the most common term 'I am sorry'. Harry Potter didn't seem like the man who liked being shown fake sympathy. "My parents are dentists." She said.

"Have you told them about what happened here?" Harry asked her, looking pretty serious now.

"No! I didn't get the time." Hermione replied truthfully. "After I…fell on the platform, I don't know how I reached the police station. I don't even remember what I told them…I was so…confused and…panicked…"

"It's alright." Harry consoled her, "I have seen tougher people break down more easily. Trust me, Hermione; your reaction was completely normal."

Hermione sighed. "I have seen death, Harry, believe me, I am not weak." She rubbed her forehead warily. "I don't know if I should tell them about it or not. I am sure they will ask me to return home immediately; I don't blame them, any parents in their place would do it, even I would do it if my daughter's life was in danger. But then I think about my dreams. Why should I stop pursuing them for the fear of a killer? I spent monthes in persuading Dr. Greengrass to take me as his apprentice. If I leave it now, he will never take me when I return or reapply."

"I understand." Harry nodded solemnly. "If you ask my opinion, Hermione, I will say that you wait for a day or two before telling your parents about it. We have his sketch now and I am sure that we'll find out his real identity by tomorrow. We will try to arrest him as soon as we can. But if matters turned serious, which I hope will not be the case, I'll personally talk to this Dr. Greengrass of yours and tell him to consider your situation. It is not every day that a doctor witnesses a murder, does she?"

Hermione was about to reply when a knock was issued on the door. Next moment two female officers in civil dresses walked in, carrying two bags.

"Mademoiselle's clothes, laptop, personal letters, certificates and diaries." One of them said, placing the bags before her. "The place was undisturbed when we reached there. Nothing was taken or seemed to be taken. There were no finger prints or signs of forced entry."

Harry nodded and motioned Hermione to check her belongings. She did so and found all her necessary documents neatly packed.

"Thank you." she told the officers who neither nodded nor replied and left without another word. Harry yawned, stood up and stretched his limbs.

"I think it's high time that you go to bed." He said, looking dead tired. "I have stationed two of my officers outside your room. They'll contact me if something happened." He held up a hand when Hermione looked alarmed, "Don't worry, Hermione, I was just telling you the facts. This hotel is as secured as the Pentagon. No soul can pass this door without us being informed first."

"Right." Hermione smiled or better say, grimaced. Harry left with a small good night and after waiting another ten minutes and feeling quite at home, she left for the bathroom too. She desperately needed to take a hot bath.

•••••

Draco's eyes glinted like a leopard's in the dark as that insolent Potter left the presidential suite he had booked for Hermione. It was almost at one o' clock in the morning now. He had seen them arrive there together, sit and talk for a while. He took care to listen to everything from his hideout. Hermione seemed outright frightened and that Potter, as condescending as ever. His hands itched to rip off his lying tongue and he had to admit to himself that he didn't like it at all when Hermione asked that Potter to call her by her given name instead of the formal address - 'doctor'.

Draco was not a possessive man. In fact, he hardly cared about women. With his looks, position, money and reputation, he could have anyone of them he liked. But this woman was different. He couldn't have her even if he wanted to; something told him that she was not readily available as most with her age and beauty were. Besides, the revelation of his hunting habits to her was making the situation more complex. Who would be interested in a killer?

He watched as Hermione entered the bedroom, opened one of the bags the female officers had brought and took out a pair of blue pajamas. Draco tried not to snort hard. This woman slept in pajamas? And he had thought that they all liked flimsy and transparent night gowns that left nothing for the imagination. Honestly!

Hermione went to the vanity and detangled her braid. She started brushing them hard and Draco winced, shaking his head in disbelief. Woman, this is your hair and not the goat's hide! There was no need to be so tough on them. Please be gentle with your hair, I like those curls, he told her.

She left for the bathroom once the combing or better say bombing was done. Draco waited patiently. He was always a patient man when it came to business. Besides, he had a special gift for her.

Moments passed away. He heard her humming and singing in the bath. They were mostly fragments of various songs he has never heard. Draco never liked singing; it was not his cup of tea. Dora liked it, of course; she liked everything that had the name tag of a 'silly' on it. Draco didn't mind. His cousin was his greatest confidant and he trusted her instincts.

Hermione came out of the bath, a towel wrapped on her head and with her came the scent of lavender. So, she liked to be perfumed before going to bed. Draco wanted to find it pretty sexy but couldn't. There was nothing erotic about using perfumes before sleep and he certainly wasn't obsessed with Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy was better than that. In her case, he would say, he was just curious and may be feeling a little adventurous.

The woman towel dried her hair, combed them properly this time and stretched her limbs. She yawned loudly, checked the time which said it was almost two o' clock in the morning. She then checked the doors and windows, pulled the curtains together, turned off the lights and climbed into the queen sized bed. After wrapping the thin comforter around her lower body, she turned to her left and went to sleep almost immediately.

Draco always liked a good game of cat and mouse and when the mouse in question was so enticing who would say 'no'? He could have left for his home when Hermione helped Potter in making that digital sketch and taken a good night's sleep. But no, he wasn't contended with that plan. He was Draco Malfoy and he couldn't leave without having some fun.

So he came here, Hotel d'Angleterre, the place Potter had referred to as 'safe' and decided to test its safety. Climbing into the balcony and entering the suite through the side door was a piece of cake. That moron Potter had taken care to notify the staffs that he was arriving with a special guest and Draco's ears were everywhere. He hid himself in the wall closet, taking care to watch the couple through the shafts between the rafters. He listened to their small pep talk and gritted his teeth ever so slightly when Potter called Hermione as 'Hermione'. He wasn't possessive and Hermione certainly wasn't a chandelier or a piece of furniture but he would have liked it more if their relationship was more formal. He liked her name too, it was pretty unusual, as the woman herself was.

The clock struck three times and Hermione stirred slightly in her sleep. Draco decided to leave his hideout now. He could move as silent and agile as a leopard whenever he wanted and not even the air was disturbed when he came out from the closet. He left for the sitting room with a glance at Hermione.

Using his specialized infrared camera he scanned each page of the documents those female officers had brought. Potter, Potter, Potter, how very silly you are, he smirked! Didn't he just make everything easier for him? Now there was no need to visit Hermione's room in the dorm, though Draco was planning to do it at leisure. It didn't take him more than thirty minutes to wrap it all up. He knew that that foolish Potter wouldn't dream of keeping Hermione in a room with CCTV. It was too indecent to record a woman's daily activities and certainly Potter was striving to be more chivalrous. Draco, however, couldn't care less. Camera or not, he always knew how do to his job. Not for anything was he a gold medalist in Plastic Surgery.

Photos taken, Draco took up an apple from the fruit bowl on the dining table and left for the bedroom. Now was his next project, and he would be doomed if he didn't taunt Potter a bit.

Hermione's eyes were loosely shut as she slept, oblivious that the very man she was running from was actually walking inside her bedroom. Draco smiled and crouched beside her, taking care to breathe in her perfume and scented breath. She looked as beautiful as that day when he had first seen her in that blue and white polka dot dress, elegant and human, not synthetic or artificial. Draco greatly valued these qualities in women. It made them reachable, touchable and real.

He sat down and ate the apple, watching her sleep. Hermione, it seemed was too tired to realize that a man sitting beside her, and eating an apple. Twice she stirred in her sleep and adjusted the comforter. Her left foot came out and Draco took care to cover it on her stead.

"Sleep, Hermione, sleep." He smiled and took out the torn piece of scarf from the depths of his jacket. He placed it on her nightstand, right before her eyes and on it, placed the half-eaten apple. He breathed in one last time in her scented breath and stood up. His work here was done.

The air or the light never knew when Draco Malfoy came and when he left, so silent was his departure from Hermione's suite.

•••••

The morning light was seeping in through the heavy curtains and Hermione blinked several times. She yawned and opened her eyes fully, trying to read the time on the bedside clock that was on the nightstand.

But something was preventing her, coming in the way to her vision. Something round. It looked like a half-eaten apple. Perplexed, Hermione focused her gaze on it next. Where did it come from? She couldn't recall eating apples before going to bed.

What came into view next tore out a blood-curdling scream from the depths of her panicked soul!

Someone has placed the torn piece of her scarf under that half eaten apple. It was there, before her.

It could mean one thing.

He was here last night!

And she never realized!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Thanks to SereniteRose and alicia for their reviews on last chapter. Thanks everyone for follows._

 _Wengen and Lauterbrunnen are two very famous places in Switzerland, notable for their untouched natural beauty._

 _Now please enjoy and you can leave your reviews on this chapter, if you like._

 _This chapter is rated: M._

 _A new Pinterest page on TSF has been opened; the link is in my profile._

 _Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental_.

 **Chapter Five**

Hermione sat motionless by a small table in the kitchenette, her knees drawn up and the dainty chin placed on them. A mug of black coffee made by Harry Potter sat on the table before her. It had turned cold quite some time ago and Hermione didn't even notice. She was too lost to talk.

Following the discovery of the apple on her torn piece of scarf, the officers in-charge of her security had rushed in to her suite and notified their superior, Harry Potter, about it. The man with untidy jet black hair and brilliant green eyes reached the scene within fifteen minutes, all suited and booted. Hermione was too scared to leave the bed but couldn't make herself to look away from the apple either. The reason was not clear to herself. It could be due to a deadly feeling that the apple wasn't actually an apple but a grenade or a cluster bomb which would explode the minute her eyes left its scrutiny. Harry, as gently as he could, had to persuade her to leave the bed, freshen up and take the breakfast as they looked after the matter. Hermione did the ablutions but couldn't make her to eat anything at all. Her throat was too dry.

She never noticed it when Harry walked into the small kitchen with a man in his early forties. The tall man was unusually lean and with a head full of light brown hair flecked with grey. He drew a chair opposite her and sat there for a while, examining her lost look. Meanwhile, Harry microwaved the breakfast and made them fresh coffees.

"In my fifteen years of career as a forensic psychiatrist, Doctor Granger, I have never come across a man so eerie." The man said and Hermione's trance broke. She focused her gaze on him and blinked.

"Dr. Remus Lupin." The man introduced himself solemnly. "Harry told me that you are quite fond of meeting your countrymen. So, here I am." He stated.

Hermione looked at Harry. He was diligently busying himself over making some coffee, as if the world would die if the beverage wasn't brewed immediately. She turned to Lupin again. His gaze was very calm, like that the heart of a cyclone. She fixed hers on his, determined to prove that she was fine and didn't need pampering.

"I was wondering, for curiosity's sake you know, why he didn't kill you..." Lupin's voice was very casual, "…despite having excellent opportunity to do so twice. Take last night for example. We are yet to discover how he got in but once inside, he could have finished you off very easily. But he didn't and that is what troubling me, doctor…"he paused delicately, not taking his eyes off Hermione's, "…he is not after your life. He is after something else."

"Like what?" Hermione spoke for the first time since that scream when she woke up and found the apple and the scarf on her nightstand. She was thinking along the same line too.

"Patterning a killer's mindset is often the most difficult thing to do." Lupin replied, accepting the breakfast Harry gave him and pushing the plate to Hermione. "You are a doctor, Miss Granger, you know about these things, psychological profile and analysis. To catch a thief you ought to know why he steals; similarly, to catch a murderer you ought to understand why he kills." He offered a spoon and indicated her to start the breakfast, "But the problem is that, this man is _not_ killing you. Instead, he is choosing to play and perhaps, mock us too."

"You mean he is mentally derailed?" Hermione accepted the spoon, finally finding some interest in the conversation. She wasn't eager to see what the officers who searched, printed, photographed and labeled the entire suite discovered. She was keen for some real facts, some insight into the mind of the man who was haunting her now.

"That toast isn't poisoned, you know." Lupin said, glancing at Hermione's French toast, "Harry, I know, is pretty decent when it comes to dealing the ladies." He said as the said Interpol officer took a seat beside him, looking completely unfazed by the complement.

Hermione shook her head and took a small bite from the toast. Her appetite for food was slowly coming back.

"As I was saying," Lupin started as if nothing has happened, "understanding the mindset of the perpetrator is crucial if we want to catch him or her. You asked me, if he is mentally derailed. I don't think so."

"Why?" Hermione was curious to know how he was so certain.

"Because we found out who he is." Lupin replied solemnly. He took out a small file from an inside pocket of his overcoat and placed it before Hermione. Instinctively, she reached for it but he placed a firm hand on the cover, preventing her from opening the file.

"Finish your breakfast, please." He bade her, smiling simultaneously, "I don't like grease stains on my documents." He wrinkled his nose at her oily fingers.

Deciding to not argue on the matter further, Hermione cleared up her breakfast within five minutes and washed her hands. As she returned to her seat, Lupin solemnly released his grip on the file and allowed her to have a look.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione opened the file. The first page bore an official looking document with a photo of the man she had seen in the metro. Her eyes fleeted to his name next and she gasped involuntarily.

"Yes, Doctor Granger, _that_ was my reaction when that file was given to me an hour ago." Lupin said airily, perceiving the reason behind Hermione's gasp. "The man you gave us a sketch of is Dr. Draco Malfoy. Twenty eight. Born on 5th June, 1980 to Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black Malfoy and therefore, half British and half French. Height, five feet ten inches…"

"…a gold medalist in Plastic Surgery…" Hermione read breathlessly, her eyes roved down the entire document, "…lives in Malfoy Manor- his home, runs a hospital named Malfoy Memorial and looks over their family business of chocolates and quartz…" she looked up from the file, dumbfounded, "Are you sure _this_ is him?"

"If _you_ are asking that question, doctor, I wonder what his solicitor would if we charged him with nineteen murders." Lupin replied, looking dead serious.

Hermione looked at Harry for opinion. She, no matter what has happened last night, still trusted his judgment.

"Hermione, please try to remember. Have you ever seen this man before you saw him in that metro?" He asked her instead.

Hermione shook her head, trying hard to recall everyone she had met since she arrived at Geneva. The librarian. The dorm mates. The doctors present at her interview with Greengrass. She surely would have remembered if she came across a man with such prominent features. Blondes were always the easiest to detect and this man had silvery blonde hair. He was a doctor in the field she was trying to pursue her career. These two facts alone would have left a good imprint on her mind.

"No, Harry, I have never met him or seen his photograph in a medical journal." She replied after a while, feeling aghast, "I swear. I am not delusional. I didn't make it all up. You saw that apple. You saw that scarf. It is still there if you want to have another look."

Harry nodded holding up a hand to calm her.

"Harry, I'll give a polygraph test to prove that I am not lying." Hermione said desperately, "I did not eat that apple or place that piece of scarf on my nightstand. I am not trying to frame him on these murders…I don't I don't even know how he got in or when he got in."

"Hermione." Harry gave her a very solemn look, "I know you are not lying. Okay? And it has nothing to do with you being a woman." he said firmly, "I don't know why but my instincts tell me that you are not the perpetrator here. Whoever it is, it's not you. Okay?"

Hermione nodded and sighed. She had thought that the killer would be apprehended as soon as his real identity was discovered and now the plan was backfiring.

"They are testing the apple for any saliva samples and we will cross match it yours." Lupin told her evenly, "If it is not you, doctor, you have nothing to worry."

"It is not _me_ , Doctor Lupin." Hermione said firmly. She was not going to have someone else's crime thrust on her shoulders or be a scapegoat. "I was sleeping when he…" she stopped abruptly when someone cleared throat from the doorway.

Looking over her right shoulder, Hermione found the man she was least expecting to be there at that moment.

Inspector Cormac McLaggen was leaning idly against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest and his cold green eyes directed straight to her. He was smiling and something inside Hermione turned cold.

•••••

Draco wanted to snort loudly when he walked into Hermione's presidential suite on midday. The officers checking the place for any traces of finger prints, hair or other evidences behaved as if they have discovered a lost treasure. He didn't waste his precious time in enquiring whether they had found any. He knew he had left nothing behind. He went straight to the bedroom.

Hermione's bed was still unmade as three officers printed every inch of comforter, pillows and mattress. The apple he had left on the night stand with the piece of scarf pressed underneath it, was still there. A photographer was taking its photo from different angles. Would he be submitting them for a competition? Draco rolled his eyes. That's an apple, you fool, not Paris Hilton. Another officer was dusting the windows and doors for fingerprints. Draco wanted to tell him to check the walk in closet. But even there, no one would be able to find anything of importance.

He decided to leave the fools do their boring job and left for the small kitchenette instead. Two male and one female voice could be heard talking there. He recognized one as Potter's. He was again using Hermione's first name as if she was his wife. He wanted to silence him forever. Hermione wasn't his property but she wasn't Potter's property either. Therefore, he would love to see him handle her with more formality.

Draco came to stand beside the doorframe and peeped into the kitchenette. As expected, Hermione was sitting by the small dining table, with a cup of coffee set before her. Her knees were drawn up and she hugged them gently. He noticed that she was still on her blue pajamas. Draco liked her casual look but wanted to tell her to change into something better. That blue and white polka dress, perhaps. She had looked so simple but elegant in it.

"Hermione, I know you are not lying. Okay? And it has nothing to do with you being a woman." Potter was telling Hermione. Draco gritted his teeth. He definitely didn't like him calling her _Hermione_ so unabashedly. "I don't know why but my instincts tell me that you are not the perpetrator here. Whoever it is, it's not you. Okay?"

So, the Interpol moron Potter was thinking that Hermione was not the perpetrator here? Very smart! He snorted. Why should she be the perpetrator? Draco was the perpetrator. He has killed all those men, hunted Hermione down, sneaked into her bedroom, eaten that apple and placed it on her torn piece of scarf to challenge Potter's so called safety. Simple. But they didn't know it, did they?

"They are testing the apple for any saliva samples and we will cross match it yours." The other man said evenly. Draco knew him too. The Forensic Psychiatrist, Remus Lupin. So, they were trying to make a psychological profile of Draco Malfoy. Interesting! "If it is not you, doctor, you have nothing to worry."

Indeed. Hermione had nothing to worry as long as Draco was there to take care of her. By the way, should he go and tell them that they will not find anything significant in that apple. He has taken too many bites from it to establish any reliable teeth patterns. Draco was also very neat when it came to eating manners. He didn't like to eat like the savages did: all gulping down and no etiquettes. He had wiped the eaten surface before placing it on her nightstand, leaving only a trace amount of saliva to culture the difference between his and Hermione's. It wouldn't be sufficient to link him to the crime scene, of course.

"It is not _me_ , Doctor Lupin." Hermione told the men firmly. Her voice had a tinge of panic in it. "I was sleeping when he…"

Draco cleared his throat audibly. Hermione almost jumped and looked over her shoulder. Her gaze froze as soon as she noted him standing there.

"Didn't mean to scare you, doctor." Draco said idly, choosing to walk into the kitchenette. Her gaze followed him all the way from the doorway to the chair which he took opposite her and beside Remus Lupin.

"I was informed just an hour ago that the killer you are looking for so desperately broke into this…" he looked around the place with a general air of disdain, "… _safe_ heaven." Draco focused on Hermione again. Her eyes told him that the jibe has hit home.

"You are late, officer." It was Potter who replied authoritatively, "We arrived here almost three hours ago."

Draco chose to deliberately lock his eyes with Potter's. Last night's insult in the interview room was still fresh on his mind. He was not going to leave him get over it so easily this time.

"Officer Potter, I believe you know that a man like me has many important duties to attend to other than escorting a _female_ doctor twenty four seven in the name of _Interpol_ _security_." He arched an eyebrow at him. "And look how _secure_ the place is that the killer got inside so easily at the dead of night when your good officers were _snoring_!"

"My officers were _not_ snoring." Potter said gritted teeth. Draco thought he liked his sensitive nature. He could tickle it sometimes, when he ran out of some personal amusement.

"Harry." Hermione warned him against an oncoming verbal fight. Draco shook his head in annoyance. He certainly didn't like it when she addressed that Potter by his given name. "Officer," she turned to Draco now, "Are you here for any special reasons other than verbal insults or rude remarks?"

Draco had to admit that he liked her nerves. Not many lived to tell the tale that they could smart mouth Draco Malfoy.

"I am here to visit the place and if possible, talk to you about last night." he said solemnly.

"I am all ears." Hermione said coldly. She lowered her knees and sat properly. "Please continue."

Draco took out his notebook and pen. "Doctor Granger, what was the time when you went to bed?"

"Around two o' clock." Hermione replied, "I woke up at nine this morning."

"Did you see or hear anyone entering, moving around or leaving your suite?" Draco asked evenly.

"No." Hermione replied curtly, "Isn't it obvious that I know nothing of the matter since I would have immediately notified Officer Potter's snoring duty officers?"

Draco chose to ignore the jibe. He could be cool headed when he wanted.

"Did you see or hear anything suspicious?" He made the next routine enquiry.

"Please define _suspicious_ for me." Hermione bade him instead.

"I believe you know what _suspicious_ is, doctor." Draco said, enjoying their conversation immensely. "Please, don't be difficult with me. I am trying to help you."

"Indeed." Hermione tilted her head and leaned against her chair. "I am not being difficult, officer. Maybe, I am not in the police force but there is no reason to think that I am less intelligent than you or anyone else present here." She said firmly, "I told this to Officer Potter and I am telling this to you too. I don't know anything about anything. Okay? Why don't you go and arrest this man…" she pushed a file towards him, "…and ask him why he is stalking me like a sick pervert?"

Draco closed his notebook and opened the file. His own profile came into view. So, they have finally found the owner of the digital sketch. Impressive! Maybe that Potter wasn't as moron as he appeared.

"Do you know who this man is, doctor?" Draco asked Hermione, "Or better say from what background he hails from?"

"I don't care from where he comes from." Hermione shrugged, "He killed all those people and I saw him doing it in the metro."

"It means that you don't know the truth." Draco said dismissively, "I am guessing that the officers present here didn't bother tell you the real identity of the man on this file." He closed it and shoved it to Hermione. "Draco Malfoy, if I am not mistaken, is from one the most prominent and influential families of entire Europe, the Malfoys. They have good connections with the royal families, Heads of states, government high officials and the elite class. If you are trying to imply that _he_ committed these nineteen murders, Doctor Granger, people will be asking you to have your head checked."

"I am telling the truth, officer McLag." Hermione said solemnly. "Whether you want to believe it or not, is up to you."

"It's _McLaggen_." Draco corrected her, "And my believing or not believing doesn't matter here, doctor. The point is, can you prove it in the court? Have you discovered any possible motives as to why this man, Draco Malfoy, a doctor, a gold medalist, should be killing those people?"

"That's your job, officer, not mine. But since you endeavored to ask, I have a few suggestions. Maybe he is mentally ill?" Hermione said, "It could be. Money often brings mental illness and from your own words, this man has a lot of it. Maybe he is a sadist but impotent and fulfills his desires by killing people. In medical terms we call it necrophilia which means that a man loves to have physical relations with corpses."

Draco would have laughed out loud had it not been before Potter and Lupin sitting with them. So Hermione was thinking that Draco Malfoy was impotent and a necrophilic? Very interesting!

"These are all speculations, doctor and not facts or proofs that can be presented before the court." He told her firmly, "I suggest that the Interpol Officers will do their homeworks well before dragging this man to the court because if he sues you for slander, you'll have to sell everything you have in this life and the next to sum the money."

"I hope you do your homework well too, officer," Potter, who had been silent till then, said, "Because the law states it very clearly that under some circumstances, you cannot sue someone for defamation, even if they make a statement that can be proved false. For example, witnesses who testify falsely in court or at a deposition can't be sued."

"There are ways to twist the law, officer and as a man who has lived his entire life in Switzerland and known its people and laws, I can tell that the Malfoys will leave not stones unturned if something happened to their heir, this Draco." Draco said coldly, "This is not some movie, doctor," he turned to Hermione, who listened to them seriously, "This is reality. We ought to be well prepared for it before we strike them."

"Officer McLaggen is right." Lupin said at last, nodding solemnly in agreement, "The Malfoys are really very influential and wouldn't leave even the Interpol if we charge Draco for first degree murder without sufficient proof and evidence. In order to collect that we need more time and until then, we have to take care of our only eye witness, Dr. Hermione Granger. We can't let something like last night happen again. If he didn't kill her on two occasions it doesn't mean that he wouldn't do it on the third."

His words were received by an alarmed Hermione and a worried Potter. Draco felt sorry for Hermione. He wanted to tell her that he didn't intend to kill her even if another two hundred of those occasions turned up. But something about her told him that she was strong and would put on a good fight. He just needed to take care of her until then.

"I think we should move Hermione to some other place." Potter said suddenly, "Somewhere outside Geneva, if possible."

Draco narrowed his eyes. What was Potter playing at actually? Was he suspecting him?

"Where?" Lupin asked, seemingly considering the suggestion seriously.

"There is a village in Bern." Potter said, as if trying to remember hard, "Wengen." He nodded, his eyes lighting up, "We can take Hermione there."

"Why a village?" Draco was curious now. Wengen, as he knew it, was a village with breathtaking scenic beauty famous for ski resorts. Was Potter taking Hermione for a long date under the guise of security precautions?

"Wrong question, officer." Potter was infuriatingly insolent. "It should be, _why that village_." He said smugly.

Draco didn't repeat after Potter. He certainly wouldn't allow the kinds of him to prompt him.

"Wengen," Harry was telling his curious audience, "is one of the very few villages in Europe that is completely car-free, meaning the only mode of transport is by train or cable car. Most people go there for hiking or skiing." His green eyes were twinkling as it rested on Hermione, "This man, whoever he is, could follow us here and break into this place easily because we live in the same city, Hermione. With a _car_ , it is very easy for him to move from place to place. But in Wengen…"

"I got it." Hermione said, her eyes shining now and with her Draco got it too.

So Potter was trying to be smart. About time though! He was thinking that with the great disadvantage of a long distance between Geneva and Wengen, and not having a car to take him there whenever he wanted, Draco wouldn't be able to reach Hermione or anyone he liked on time. In the meantime, he assumed that Potter and his Interpol crones would be keeping an eye on the suspect Draco Malfoy's every movement and activities to see if he left the city. How very clever!

He slumped back on his seat, smirking idly now. Did they think that they could keep a Malfoy from reaching the goal he wanted? Time and distance could be a factor here but Draco had other means to tackle that.

He let them discuss their smart plans and be in glee, checking his own file again and asking Potter to send him a copy of it for further investigation. Then he stood up and with a slightly amused glance over Hermione's pajama clad form, left.

He would be leaving for Zürich by air in the next two hours and from there, he would be going to Wengen by train. It has been quite some time that he hasn't skied on the Alps.

Besides, he certainly couldn't say no a nice little trip in the Alps with Hermione Granger, would he?


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to SereniteRose, guest and Musicangel913 for their reviews on last chapter. Thanks everyone for follows._

 _I have deliberately kept the chapters short to make the different characters' roles easier to understand. All the Harry Potter characters have been set in accordance to their roles in the book._

 _Now please enjoy and you can leave your feedback on this chapter, if you like._

 _This chapter is rated: M._

 _A new Pinterest page on TSF has been opened and updated; the link is in my profile._

 _Disclaimer: The copyright to Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Any other characters are purely work of fiction and any resemblances are co-incidental._

 **Chapter Six**

Dora took a big bite from her cucumber, watching Draco pack for a short trip to Zürich. Her cousin, unlike most men, liked to do his own packing when travelling was concerned. Not even his mother, Narcissa, was allowed to touch some of his personal belongings.

"So they released your girlfriend?" she asked him casually, trying to wriggle some information about that female doctor. She took another bite from the cucumber. Eating vegetables were the key to staying in shape.

"She was not in a lock up." Draco was folding a grey shirt neatly and replied without any visible interest in the topic.

"So you are admitting that she _is_ your girlfriend." Dora's eyes sparkled in curiosity. She knew something was fishy about Draco's recent behaviour. Maybe, he was in love and trying to hide it from her. Considering it was Draco, that's wasn't quite unexpected or unusual. She waited for more to follow.

"Define girlfriend." Her cousin bade her instead. He placed the shirt in the hand luggage case. It was already full and still had space for more. That was another wonder about him that marveled Dora. Draco could pack a truck full of things inside a decent size suitcase without any difficulty at all.

"Well, you know what a girlfriend is." Dora shrugged and pouted her lips. Now she was planning to emotionally blackmail her cousin and coax him to reveal everything or at least the interesting bits about his secret affair, like where they first met, how it started, how many times have they snogged etc. etc. etc.

"If you are thinking that I am in a relationship with that lady in the photo, Dora, which I know that you are thinking," Draco said idly, "you are mistaken. She is not my girl friend, if you care to know."

"Then why are did you ask me to find out where she was?" Dora discarded all her attempts to slyly interrogate her cousin and asked seriously this time.

"Because she saw me doing some good hunting." Draco replied casually and realizing the meaning behind that coded statement, Dora gasped.

"You mean you killed her too?" she stood up from her seat on his vanity, her half-eaten cucumber flinging out of her grasp in the process.

"I hate it when you litter my bedroom." Her cousin shook his head, took up the cucumber from the carpeted floor and threw it in the dustbin on a corner with a perfect aim. "No, I didn't kill her." he said curtly, returning to his packing.

Dora sighed in relief and slumped on his bed this time. "It would have been a huge mistake had you done so." She told him.

"I know." Her cousin said, his eyes fixed on buttoning a green shirt. He folded it neatly too and placed it in the cavernous depths of his small hand luggage case.

"What are you planning to do with her then?" Dora was worried now. Things were not turning out the way they had been for last two years. She was notified this morning that the Interpol has asked the local police for records of a man whose features matched with her cousin. She had wondered why the International Police would be interested in Draco for they had good links there too which had helped them to silence the previous murders. But pieces were falling together now. That Hermione Granger must have seen Draco committing a murder and went to the police who redirected her to Interpol officer Harry Potter who was the new investigating officer in charge of the case. It has resulted into discovery of his real identity.

"There are other methods of silencing her, cousin, without killing." Draco said, his voice contemplative. "I intend to employ one of those."

"Draco we have only five of them left." She told him, remembering the long list that her cousin had finished off in two years, "I don't want you to get caught before that."

"Relax, cousin." He smirked, as if nothing has happened, "Now tell me what should I bring for you from Wengen?"

"Wengen?" Dora repeated incredulously, not getting head or tail of her cousin's recent and most abnormal behaviours. "You said you were going to aunt 'Cissy's at Zürich."

"I said I am going to Zürich." Draco corrected her, "I didn't say anything about meeting mother there. But now that you say it, I think I will reconsider my decision." He tapped thoughtfully on his chin.

"Where did Wengen come in this?" Dora was having a feeling that the sudden trip to Zürich somehow concerned that Dr. Hermione Granger.

"I have not skied for a long time." Draco stretched his limbs and said in a longing voice, "I miss the Alps and that excitement."

"Draco." Dora has had enough of his eccentric and misleading answers and held up her hands, "Don't twist my questions, okay? Tell me now. What is your real destination? Zürich or Wengen?"

"Both." Draco replied airily. "First I'll go to Zürich, meet mother there and then I'll leave for Wengen."

"And why Wengen of all places?" Dora asked sternly.

"Because," Draco fixed his grey eyes on her and paused deliberately, "I am planning to have a romantic date with my _girlfriend_ there. You know, the real romantic type…under the same comforter." He winked playfully.

"Oh shut up, Draco!" Dora rolled her eyes. This man was so impossible to yield. "Are you going there because that Granger or Grassroot or Greenpea…"

"Granger." Draco said solemnly.

"Fine, Granger is going there?" Dora finished the rest of her enquiry.

"Tell me, dear Dora." Draco locked his eyes with hers, "Why should I tell you everything about me? You didn't tell me when you started fancying that droppings-covered scarecrow." He said in a challenging voice.

"Droppings-covered scarecrow?" Dora snorted, perplexed.

"That Remus Lupin, I mean." Draco arched an eyebrow. "I noticed how you like to call him _Remus_ whenever his topic comes up."

"He is not a droppings-covered scarecrow." Dora protested, blushing horribly and failing to hide it from Draco's intense scrutiny. "He is a Forensic Psychologist and he is brilliant. I have worked with him on a few murder cases and he is just the man a police officer needs when looking for a serial killer."

"Indeed." Draco nodded, looking highly amused by her explanation. "Are you not going to consult him for your own cousin's case?"

"That's entirely different, Draco." Dora replied defensively, "We all know why you are doing this. We trust your judgment."

"Then trust me when I say that I am going to Wengen to ski." Draco returned to his packing again. Perceiving that the argument was over, Dora proceeded to leave his bedchamber. If Draco was being so passionately secretive about his trip to Zürich and Wengen, that meant only one way remained open for her: finding out more about that Hermione Granger.

On her way out, she saw a man entering Draco's suite, his hand on the doorknob. From the shoulder length hair to the iris of his eyes to his sophisticated attire we wore, everything was of deepest shade of black, as if made of midnight sky.

"Good afternoon, Nymphadora." He nodded curtly at her, his voice lingering deliberately on her name.

"Good afternoon, Severus." Dora greeted back and left the scene as fast as she could; this man liked to call her Nymphadora which she didn't like to the least. There was another valid reason to leave too fast too. Severus Snape, the Head of the Federal Intelligent Bureau, didn't like a third person to be present while talking to Draco.

"Preparing for a _pleasant_ trip, Draco?" Severus asked as soon as he walked into the latter's bedchamber.

"I think the term interesting would be more appropriate." Draco replied, his packing almost done. His guest didn't endeavor to make himself comfortable on one of the leather couches and went to one of the two mullioned windows and stood before it, looking out.

"Words have reached me, Draco, that a certain female doctor has witnessed you committing a gruesome murder in a metro." Severus said, his tone impassive.

Draco didn't respond. He continued packing his toiletries.

"Did you not check under the seats before you sent that van Dyke to afterlife?" Severus asked.

Draco didn't reply. He was checking the expiry date on a Gillette shaving foam can.

"I am talking to you, Draco." Severus's voice was impatient now.

"I am listening." Draco said curtly.

"Then tell me how did this happen?" Severus demanded.

"What happened?" Draco asked calmly.

"How did she see you doing it?" Severus's asked in cold fury.

"So what if she saw me doing _it_?" Draco shrugged indifferently.

"Draco," Severus turned now and faced the man he was trying to talk to, "You know the rules. You can't be seen while doing it. That's the reason we design so many disguises and identities for you. You, Draco Malfoy, _can't be seen committing those murders_."

"It's still inconclusive, Severus, whether that doctor saw me in that metro or somewhere else, like a medical journal, per say." Draco replied solemnly, "She is an aspiring doctor in my field, dear Federal Bureau Head, if you already don't know about it and it is highly probable that she saw my photo in a doctor's directory and made it all up. Nothing could be told until it is proven before the court of law."

"Court or law is not my problem, Draco, you know that very well." Severus walked up to the stubborn man and shook him hard. "My problem is your anonymity. Our enemies must not know that it is you or your life is in grave danger."

"No game is interesting unless both parties get the equal chance to play." Draco released Severus's grasp from his shoulders and stated. "I don't care what happens to me, Severus, because I knew what I would be doing and what were its risks and consequences before I took that job. It is our battle, mine mainly and I can win it against them, no matter what happened." he said firmly. "But I will not have you hurt that doctor just because she saw me in the metro. She is innocent and has nothing to do with it. She came here to pursue her dreams of being a surgeon to help burn victims and I will not take it lying down if you sacrifice her for your own petty means. You have me, Severus. Isn't that enough? Are you not satisfied?"

Severus sighed, took a seat in one of the couches and rubbed his forehead wearily.

"Draco, you are the last of the Malfoys, you know that, don't you?" he said after a while, sounding both serious and resigned about the known fact.

"If I already don't have a son or daughter hidden somewhere." Draco said, sounding careless.

"Lucius would be very angry with me if none from his family is left to take the line forward." Severus said, giving the blonde a reproachful look.

"What should I do then?" Draco asked, "Take a surrogate?"

"What nonsense!" Severus snapped, "As far as I know, that Dr. Greengrass is ready to give his daughter, Astoria's hands into your hands any time you like. That girl also likes you. She is reasonably pretty, well educated, well brought up and comes from a good background. It can be a good union, Draco. That way the Malfoy line will not die if something happened to you. Why aren't you accepting it then?"

"Because she is not my type." Draco replied dismissively. "And I am not getting married to _reproduce_. That's a legalized rape and an extremely abhorring concept."

"What is your type then?" Severus knew that answer would be offered to him as soon as he asked Draco to get married to Astoria.

The blonde considered his question for a while.

"My type of woman should be intelligent but simple; someone who has better things to do than waiting for a Prince Charming to come along, riding a horse and take her for a fairy ride; someone strong who can dare to dream big and strive to reach for it." His features were very solemn and therefore, as Severus knew it, truthful too, "Someone who can make me feel alive, make me want to get her for me. Someone who can…" he paused, "…bring the old Draco back."

Severus, listening intently to Draco's words, wanted to tell him that it was all a dream he was chasing, that there was no such woman in this world who could undo what has happened to him. But his instincts told him that Draco knew what he was talking about, that he has met this marvel lady he talked so passionately about.

"Severus," Draco stowed the bag of toiletries inside a pocket and zipped it before closing the lid of his case. "I want you to bring that Cormac McLaggen back from his long holiday. I won't be needing him for a while now. When he returns, have him to watch that Harry Potter and Remus Lupin, twenty four seven. I think they are planning something deeper and I need to know what it is."

"Lupin? That flea-bitten rascal!" Severus's lips curled in distaste, "Who put him on this case?"

"Potter, Obviously. Rascals of same feather flock together." Draco smirked, "They think they are smart to catch me. Let's see if they are right."

"I was told that an air ticket was issued under your name from Geneva to Zürich." Severus said, waiting for the explanation to follow.

"If it reached _your_ ears, Severus, I am pretty sure that it reached the Interpol cronies too." Draco's smirk broadened. "They are having Draco Malfoy under observation and he is going to meet his mother in Zürich. Any problem?"

"No." Severus replied smugly, "It's better that you leave the scene until we clean it up a bit. When do you plan to return?"

"Depends…" Draco's voice trailed off, "…on the _ice_ I am going to handle." He said mysteriously.

•••••

"I don't know why Harry but that officer McLaggen gives me creeps." Hermione voice shook slightly as she admitted the embarrassing truth before the Interpol Officer.

They sat on the balcony beside the bedroom, a special feature of the presidential suite that overlooked the Lake Geneva. Afternoon tea was served before her, with elegantly decorated treats and sandwiches on a three tier tray but her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes were fixed on the setting sun that slowly moved down the horizon, bathing the entire city and the lake into a late afternoon crimson glow. The red reminded her of the red of the fresh blood on that metro. How one night has changed the course of her life forever!

The man to whom these words were intended was diligently checking the passcodes of entering the bedroom on a special Interpol device. The place that was reputed to be as secured as Pentagon was protected by invisible laser rays on every doors and windows which would ring an alarm should any one tried to get in forcibly. The only way to undo it was with a ten digit passcode which was known only to Harry. It had millions of permutation and combination alternatives and he was checking how the intruder got in without ringing the alarm.

"I admit that he is a bit weird." He said, nodding absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on the screen of the device where codes appeared and disappeared, "But I think it is more due to his showoff of artificial intelligence than natural. He is just swaggering and trying to prove him impressive before the Interpol and appearing…" he smirked, "…like a total fool."

Hermione shook her head, disagreeing with Harry.

"No, Harry, it is not like that." she said firmly, "I admit that he tried to overemphasize his points but there is something in his air that sends a chill down my spine every time I see him. Not even a day has passed since we got to know each other and now you are calling me Hermione and I am calling you Harry, Harry. Why? Because I trust your instincts as an officer and a countrymen. I expect you to do the same with mine too, as a woman. We, women, understand many things even if they were never expressed or stated…"

"Like a girl understands that a guy likes her even though he never told her so?" Harry cut in and suggested hopefully.

"Not that." Hermione couldn't help but snort. It seemed that men were typical when women were concerned. "I don't know how to explain this to you. But have you ever watched Discovery Channel or Animal Planet, when a tiger slowly and slyly approaches a horde of deer and they…kind of sense his presence in the air…even though they haven't seen him coming?" Harry nodded silently, " _That_ is what I feel when this McLaggen comes near me, like he is the tiger and…"

"And?" Harry prompted, eager to learn the rest.

"I am not a deer." Hermione told herself determinedly, pounding on the table lightly and the tea cups clanged. "I am not going to have him prey me. I am not afraid of him. He can't scare me. I am strong. I am…I am…" she trailed off, looking defeated.

"Hermione." Harry smiled kindly and left the device to attend to the brave lady sitting before him. He sat across to her and gave her a very solemn look of assurance. "You are strong, okay? I know it. Remus knows it. Everyone who came here today knows it. Even that fool, McLaggen. You don't need to prove that to us."

"I wanted to call up home and tell dad about it." Hermione said, feeling really alone in this foreign land, "I know he will understand my situation. My mum will too but she'll worry more than dad and maybe will come here and that maniac…will attack or kidnap them to have me shut my mouth…so I didn't tell them anything when dad called me an hour ago." she sighed sadly.

"There. I don't think I have met any lady with that nerve." Harry said honestly, looking impressed, "Draco Malfoy or not, Hermione, this killer is going to have a tough time trying to tame you or bow you down to his commands. With you by our side, we have better chances of putting him behind the bars and have the justice delivered."

Hermione didn't respond readily. These were all tall talks. The reality was different. No matter what Harry said or posed as she didn't know how long she was going to survive this cat and mouse play. But that didn't mean that she was going to quit it so soon. She was a doctor and they would hold on to hope and do everything in their power until the last moment when death arrived.

"When are we leaving for Wengen?" she asked Harry who went back to his code-breaking device. "I need to go to my dorm room and pack a few things."

"Hermione I am not caging you but I suggest that you don't return to your dorm for a while now." Harry said evenly, "We are keeping track of Draco Malfoy's every single movement. My men are on him since we found out the killer's identity and if he is the man who broke into this highly secured place, I don't want to think what he can do to you in that dorm room…" he paused, "…even if you are surrounded by our officers. You are my great responsibility now, Hermione. I can't let anything happen to you. I can take risk on my life. I don't have any family who'd shed tears if I die. But you have loving parents and I can't lose them their daughter."

"Please, Harry, don't say that!" Hermione said, feeling truly sorry for the man she was slowly coming to know. It was strange. Not even a day has passed since they met in that interview room where he had offered her a Snickers and now this man felt like her old friend. "Any progress with that code?" she asked, trying to uplift their moods.

"None." Harry shook his head. "The device says that the passcode wasn't broken, meaning no one tried to decipher the code with a similar device and sneaked in. It could only mean one thing. Whoever entered this room, knew the code already."

"But that's impossible! You said that only you know the code." Hermione just couldn't take any new shocking discoveries and surprises. Her nerves were frayed from constant tension.

"Even I thought that but apparently I was wrong." Harry said thoughtfully and turned off the device. It beeped and the screen went dark. He came to sit with Hermione on the small table laden with tea treats. "I think we are being watched."

"I thought you realized that already." Hermione said, feeling slightly confused. Wasn't it obvious from the way the killer found out where he was taking Hermione to?

"I speculated it, Hermione, but now I have _definite_ proof." Harry said seriously, "There is someone inside us who is supplying our information to that killer. Otherwise, he could not have known the right passcode."

"What should we do then?" Hermione asked, a deadly fear engulfing her. If the law enforcements were helping the killer, she certainly didn't stand a chance.

"Change of plans." Harry said, rubbing his head wearily. "I had thought that we'd sneak you out of this place at night and board the train to Wengen. But that's not possible now. Malfoy or that killer, whoever it is, is not alone. The way he entered this place without raising an alarm, the way this case was manhandled for two years before I took it and the way he moves swiftly from place to place tells us one thing: he has very high ranked accomplices and they'd know exactly where I am taking you in Wengen if we moved you without proper planning. Maybe, he will not be following you personally, Hermione, but his accomplices will. They will inform him and he'll reach you there."

Hermione bit her lips, seriously considering returning to her country now. But what if they followed her there too and killed her entire family? Who could tell that it hasn't already reached his ears that she was going to Wengen? They had thought it would take the killer or Malfoy some time to reach there since the place didn't have means to be reached other than trains and if Malfoy followed her outside the city, he'd be caught because Interpol was having him under close surveillance. But what now? She didn't know if Draco Malfoy was the killer, how many accomplices he had and how far his network was spread that he could retrieve the right passcode to an Interpol protected safe house.

"Don't worry, Hermione, we will think out a way." Harry said, his green eyes on her seriously brooding features. "Will you mind if I stay here tonight? In the sitting room? You can have a female officer with you if you don't...you know, feel comfortable with me being here." He suggested cautiously.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione snorted. Truth be told, she wasn't feeling like sleeping all alone tonight even with the security guards stationed just outside the doors. The female officers she had seen were too unfriendly and robotic. She wondered if they knew how to smile. Harry, even though he was a male, was better than them in many aspects. He was a clever and sensitive man with well brought up sense of handling ladies. Her instincts told her that she could trust him.

"If my classmates ever came to know that I am sharing a presidential suite in the romantic city like Geneva with a handsome Interpol officer named Harry Potter, I am sure they would all have heart attacks." She told him, trying to break the awkward ice between them. "I was the famous geek of my class, you know. No one would date me, the know-it-all Granger." She added.

"Handsome? Me?" Harry snorted this time and poured them two cups of tea. "I was my cousin Dudley's favourite punching bag." He said looking highly amused but Hermione didn't miss the slight blush that appeared on his features following her compliment. She served them sandwiches and they ate, looking at the fountain of Lake Geneva, Jet d'Eau from the balcony. It was one of the city's most famous landmarks and was visible from anywhere around the lake.

"I'll talk to Remus and make a good plan to have to you safely transported to Wengen as soon as we can." Harry told her, finishing his tea and standing up. He flung his coat over his shoulder and was about to leave when his cell phone rang suddenly. He answered it and after listening to the other end silently, his features grew thoughtful.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked him when he hung up.

"Malfoy left for Zürich an hour ago in a Swiss airways flight." He replied, "He must have reached there by now."

Hermione wanted to sigh in relief but something told her it was the beginning of another story, an end that would have a terrible fate.

"If my police instincts are telling me right, Hermione, he didn't leave Geneva all too suddenly for nothing." Harry frowned deeply and said, "He is up to something."

Hermione nodded, agreeing with him internally. Draco Malfoy, her mind told her, was not going to leave her be all too soon.


End file.
